


Letters from the Abyss

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam makes a surprising discovery after the battle with Anubis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters from the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has had a long evolution from the time Wizard Brenna posted the challenge in July 2003. I wanted to write the story utilizing the letters idea last autumn, but then Linz convinced me to wait until after Lost City aired. Which I did, and thanks to her suggestion, this is a better story for waiting. My heartfelt thanks to Wendy for putting all the apostrophes in the correct places. And to Linz—your help and support means more to me than you know. 
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted June 2004.

LETTERS FROM THE ABYSS

Prologue

Captain Sondra Stafford made an entry in the open folder on her desk, noting the small clock in front of her read 1055. Colonel O'Neill was painfully punctual and would be knocking on her door at precisely 1100. Standing, she readied the small office for his visit, filling a glass of water and setting it on the table by the settee, making sure the tissues were close at hand. Not that he ever drank the water or used a tissue. 

Sighing inaudibly, she returned to her desk. Normally she would have sat in the chair opposite the small settee, but the Colonel wasn't the type for that. He was all stiff and uncomfortable business and she knew he only kept the appointments because he was ordered to. He'd been coming to see her twice a week for four weeks now. This was to be their final session. After four weeks she barely knew more than what was in his file—thin, as it was, most avenues of information barred by a red 'classified' stamp. That he had been a POW and tortured, she knew. By whom and how was a classified mystery. Though the details didn't really matter, the treatment remained the same. She wasn't sure she'd actually managed to treat him though-- 

There was a knock on the door and she took a deep breath, smoothing back a stray wisp of hair trying to escape the French Knot she wore. "Enter." She stood as the door opened. "Colonel," she smiled in greeting, putting her professional mask into place. "Please have a seat."

"Doctor."

He sat on the settee and she returned to her desk. The simple formalities exchanged, she took a moment to study him. He looked healthier than he had four weeks ago. He was tanned now and had gained some weight. He was as relaxed as she'd ever seen him—which wasn't very. But she'd been around special ops personnel long enough to know that none of them ever fully relaxed. 

"How have you been since our last meeting?" She led him into the casual questions and answers that took up the first part of their sessions. They talked quietly of his rehab and speculated mildly about the Rockies' chances in the upcoming division championships. As always, the time flew and when Sondra finally glanced at the small clock on her desk, she only had ten minutes left in their session. 

"Colonel, as you know this is our last session." He nodded and she could see the sudden tenseness in his posture. "I'm going to recommend that you be returned to active duty." Whatever that may be, she added to herself. If she hadn't been watching him, she would have missed the flicker of relief that flashed in his eyes with her statement, before he quickly disguised it.

"Thanks, Doc," he replied, his hands already on the cushions, preparing to stand.

"There is one thing you can do for me." His expression immediately became wary and he sat back uneasily on the edge of the settee.

"You once told me that a technique you used to 'escape' what was happening to you was to write letters in your mind."

He looked down at his hands and Sondra knew she had caught him off-guard. Maybe this would work. He finally looked at her. "Yeah, Doc...something like that." He was once more in control, his expression returning to the usual mask of casual indifference she was accustomed to seeing. 

She stood, picking up a spiral bound composition book off her desk. "I think it would help if you wrote those letters down." She held out the notebook and the room seemed unnaturally quiet until he finally took it from her. "It doesn't matter whether you did 'write' those letters or if you only told me that because you thought it was what I wanted to hear." She held his skeptical gaze. "Just write it down, Jack. Put your demons to rest."

Some deep, dark pain pushed through his casually indifferent expression then and she felt her professional detachment slipping at the hint of his buried secrets. She took a step back, separating herself from him and the moment. "I'll send Doctor Fraiser and General Hammond my recommendation," she said briskly. "If I can ever be of help to you in the future, you know where to contact me." She was running, she knew, but she was only given so much time to help people who had a lifetime of hurt and injury to heal. At best, she bandaged their psyches and prayed that time would allow them to heal.

"Thanks, Doc," he repeated. He stood and shook the hand she proffered and left the office, the notebook clutched in his hand.

Sondra sat back down at her desk, making her final notation in his file and trying to ignore that brief flash of terror she'd glimpsed in his eyes when she had said 'demons'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack dropped his duffel onto the floor by his locker and started unpacking the toiletries and other items he routinely kept on base. Doctor Stafford had released him earlier that day and Fraiser had just finished her exam. Thank god, he could finally get back to work. The weeks of inactivity had been as bad as his captivity—but in a totally different way, of course. Putting his shaving kit on the top shelf of his locker, Jack reached back into the duffel and pulled out the notebook Stafford had given him. She'd been okay, as far as shrinks went. He ran a finger along the metal binding. He hadn't been lying to her when he'd told her about 'writing letters'. Only they hadn't been to family and friends. They'd been to one person and one person only...Sam. The overwhelming need to see her again had been the only thing that had kept him sane during his imprisonment by Ba'al. Even when he'd been begging Daniel to help him, his thoughts had been on her. 

He almost tossed the notebook back into his duffel when Doctor Stafford's parting words sounded in his head. Just write it down, Jack. Put those demons to rest. He stared at the notebook, blue cardboard cover, eighty sheets, college ruled.... He put the notebook on the top shelf of his locker. Maybe he'd think about what the Doc had asked.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Eighteen months later

God, how she hated this. Hated going through his belongs like he would never return. Hated that space was at such a premium that his locker had to be vacated to make room for one of the new teams. Teal'c and Daniel had both volunteered to do it, but she had brushed them off. If it had to be done, she would do it. 

The locker room was blissfully empty, a small mercy for which Sam was thankful as with trembling hands she carefully folded the street clothes he'd worn onto the base less than a week ago. She pulled out his leather jacket next, the old and worn leather so smooth and warm beneath her fingers. She couldn't help it; she held it up and buried her face in it. It still smelled like him. Blinking at the tears that filled her eyes, she quickly folded it and placed it into the box. 

His shaving kit was next, the lingering scent of his after-shave almost undoing her all over again. Tucking the kit in the box with the other items of clothing, she once more reached up and felt on the top shelf, checking for anything else, when her fingers bumped into the firm ridge of something. Standing on tiptoe, she finally managed to nudge the item so she cold pick it up. A notebook. Curious, she flipped it open and read the first few words.

My dearest Sam. 

Her mouth went dry and her heart started pounding.

The shrink says this will help. I'm not so sure myself, but if there's anything that can help stop the nightmares, I guess it's worth a try.

She quickly flipped through a few more pages, finding the same thing. The notebook contained letters to her—written in Jack O'Neill's distinctive scrawl. The slam of the locker room door and sound of voices jerked her back to reality. Quickly stuffing the notebook into the box, she closed the locker, carefully slipping the nametag out before picking up her precious cargo and quietly slipping out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's hands were almost trembling and she was filled with a queasy combination of fear and anticipation when she finally curled up on the sofa at home, Jack's notebook in her hand. She had barely been able to concentrate all day, the mere presence of the notebook in her office almost more than she could stand. But she'd resisted the temptation to read it there. The risks were too great. And besides, she wanted to be somewhere where she couldn't be interrupted. So, she'd driven home when her shift was over, hurriedly eaten take-out shrimp fried rice and then changed into her pajamas. Pulling his leather jacket over her lap like a blanket, she took a sip of the Chardonnay she'd poured and with her heart beating wildly in anticipation, she opened the notebook.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Day One

My dearest Sam:

The shrink says this will help. I'm not so sure myself, but if there's anything that can help stop the nightmares, I guess it's worth a try.

I'm being held a prisoner somewhere. Evidently the snake's gone, at least I don't 'feel' anything—or anyone—in my brain. I don't know what happened and no one seems too eager to tell me. None of the Jaffa I've encountered have been very talkative, but I think the tattoo on their foreheads is Ba'al's. Guess I should have paid more attention at those briefings. I also think I was dead, Sam. When I 'woke up' here, I was in a sarcophagus. Only one reason I know of I'd be in one of those. Funny, I don't feel that great. I thought these things restored you to perfect health? Maybe this one is set on 'low'. 

I'm in some kind of cell, but I’m sure it's only a matter of time before that changes. I'm sure I wasn't revived out of the goodness of someone's heart. Unfortunately, I've been out of the loop lately, so I’m not sure what this snake-head could possibly want from me. 

Uh oh, footsteps over head. To be continued.

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Day Two

My dearest Sam:

Definitely Ba'al, definitely a sarcophagus and definitely dead. But alive now, through the miracle of Goa'uld—or is it Ancients? —technology. Couldn't really tell Ba'al anything, since I don't remember squat. He seems to think the Tok'ra snake Kanan—I finally remembered his name—and I were good pals, sharing all our little secrets. But of course, Kanan didn't, and Ba'al doesn't believe me. The multiple knife wounds pretty much demonstrate that.

But he does have some cool technology. He's got some gravity generator thing, keeps me pinned to the wall for his interrogation—"Look Ma! No shackles!" 

And then there's my prison cell. One of these times I'm going to have to remember which way is 'down'. Seems they can change the gravity here too. As far as cells go, this one isn't too bad. It's clean—but the floor is damn hard. I haven't been given anything to eat, but then I'm not that hungry. I guess being dead kills your appetite. Sorry...not the best choice of words, eh?

I wish I knew what the hell Ba'al wants. He seems to think Kanan had some mission here and that I would know what it was. Only problem is, I don’t have a clue. I don't remember much actually, about being blended. God, never thought I'd be using that word when referring to myself. And I never will again. I at least hope the Tok'ra got what they wanted. And I guess they delivered what they promised—I'm alive. Well, I was alive but then I died, but now I’m alive again. Crap, that makes my head hurt. 

My memory may be kind of fuzzy regarding being with the Tok'ra, but there is one thing I do remember vividly. I remember your eyes, your voice, when you asked me to take the symbiote. There was no way I could refuse you. But you knew that, didn't you? It doesn’t really matter though, what's happened has happened and can't be undone. Just like Kanan bailing...just like being tortured...just like dying.

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Day Three  
My dearest Sam:

Well, at least I think it's day three. My days and nights are kind of screwed up and it's pretty much light in the cell all the time. But I could sense a decrease in activity over head and I think I slept. At least I don't think I was dead this time. Waiting for your next torture session is sometimes just as bad as the torture itself. You have too much time to think, to wonder. I know, part of the whole tactic. Keep your enemy off-guard and demoralized. 

Oh, you know, I don't think I told you. Daniel was here. Go figure. And he's wearing that old white sweater of his. I thought ascended beings would have better fashion sense, but I guess not. He's also insubstantial—I mean, doesn't have a solid form. Pretty wild, eh? But I guess that goes with the job. Oh, and it seems he can't help me escape but he can help me ascend. Never heard a bigger load of bullshit in my entire life. He's ascended to some higher plane of existence and he can't help me out? What's the point then? None, that I can see. Why have any special powers if you can't use them? I can't believe he'll just let this keep happening to me. 

Now, if you were here, you'd help me Sam, wouldn't you? You'd figure out a way to jam this gravity thing and get us the hell out of Dodge. Or, you'd just be here with me...living, breathing, flesh and blood. I could touch you, hold you, find some comfort in the long hours spent waiting. I would have something to look forward to at the end of each torture session. Not that I would ever wish what I'm experiencing on you, but if you were here, I wouldn't feel so alone.

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day Four  
My dearest Sam:

Four days, four deaths...I think. Maybe it's been longer than that, I can't be sure. I don't know if there are times when he kills me and revives me before I even know what has happened. Or if I'm deliberately blocking it out. It's getting hard, Sam. I think I know why Kanan came here and what Ba'al wants. And it isn't pretty and I can't tell him. 

It was acid today. A rather refreshing change from the knives. But it still ended the same. I tried to pay attention this time, to what it was like when I died. I don't remember though, I don't remember. I was falling and there was pain...and then I was waking up in the sarc. Yeah, I woke up before they opened it—or is it really waking? Or being reborn? Nah, that's a bit fanciful—and we both know I'm not fanciful. Being revived, I guess.

I knew where I was this time, but it didn't make it any less creepy. Buried alive. And then back to the cell—at least I knew which way to fall this time. And the usual claptrap from glowboy. Not going to do it, Sam. Not going to ascend. Too much left to do—too much Goa'uld ass left to kick. Too much left unsaid.

I think I dreamt this time. We were walking along the beach, just you and me. A nice beach, kind of reminded me of this beach I went to once in Mexico. White sand, beautiful blue water. The water was calm, a light breeze in the air. We carried a picnic basket between us. When we reached a stand of four palm trees, we set out our picnic. Fresh papaya and mangos, crusty bread and aromatic cheese. Beer for me, wine for you. I sliced open one of the papayas, ripe and dripping with juice. I lifted one of the slices to your lips. Your eyes were as blue as the water, your lips as full and ripe as the papaya. Your lips closed around the fruit, a smile on your face. And then I woke...to the cold, hard bed of the sarc. The harsh overhead lights and the rough hands of Ba'al's guards. A return to the endless torture and death. 

Someday Sam, we'll have that picnic on the beach. We'll walk along the shore, the wet sand squishing between our toes, the sun shining down on us. And all of this will be a dream—the time we were apart. 

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Day Five  
My dearest Sam:

This last time was the worst it's ever been. I actually wanted to die. God, I can barely write it down. Pokers...red hot pokers. I figure you can get the idea. The sadistic look on his face as he lifted it out of the fire and walked towards me. First my left eye and then my right eye. But I didn't see him then...all I saw was you. Beautiful blue eyes, sparkling with laughter, shadowed with grief, filled with a love that can't be denied. 

They say your other senses become heightened when you're blind, but all I could feel was the pain. Until I felt his hot breath on my cheek, his voice right in my ear, promising even worse pain if I didn't tell him what he wanted to know. The bastard only laughed when I told him I didn't know anything, had nothing to tell him. His voice mocking, saying that I would gladly tell him all he wanted to know, it was only a matter of time. And then the burning pain of the poker searing through my ribs, my lung and finally my heart. Death was actually a relief this time...until I woke up again in the sarcophagus.

I need you, Sam. He's taking my life from me bit by bit and only your faith and the promise of your love are keeping me whole. 

Always, Jack 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
Day Six

My dearest Sam:

I can't last much longer. It gets harder and harder and I'm getting weaker and weaker. I've been remembering more, bits and pieces. It definitely is about the girl. It's always about a girl. I don't know why, but Kanan came back for her. Maybe there is some honor among those snakeheads—your father the exception, of course. Whatever the reason, Ba'al won't rest until he has the truth out of me. I told Daniel I couldn't hand her over to him. He'd do the same to her, only it would be ten times worse. He's pure evil and won't rest until he's broken her into a million little pieces—like he wants to break me.

And he will break me. It's only a matter of days—or deaths—now. I know the drill, been here before. There's nothing wrong or dishonorable with giving in. It's all mind games. The games your mind plays so you can survive. I'd tell him that the ever-so practical and ruthless Kanan returned for the girl he loved. No great secrets or plan to overthrow Ba'al or destroy the fortress. No Tok'ra master plan. Love—plain and simple. A love that convinced him that he could do the impossible—penetrate Ba'al's fortress and escape with his lover undetected. And now he's probably dead and he's condemned her as well.

I think I've seen her Sam. Kind of reminds me of you—her looks anyway. At first I thought it was you, but only at first. She doesn't have your strength—hasn't had a chance to develop any strength. There's an aura of fear that surrounds her that only comes from those who have been habitually brutalized and taken advantage of. 

Like Kanan took advantage of her. I'm just guessing, but I can see how this played out. Kanan needed access and he seduced this servant to help him. Ba'al's fairly possessive of his 'possessions'. I know this had to piss him off to no end. Someone else was able to come between his servant and her 'god'. Kanan took the easy way out, damn him.

But then something happened. He suddenly developed a conscience? Who the hell knows, except whatever happened would have to happen while he was inside me. And then he leaves me—and her—to face the consequences of his actions. Typical Tok'ra though, don't ya' think? Hit and run? Leave others to clean up your mess? Maybe he tried to do the right thing and it blew up in his—my—face. Maybe he actually fell in love with the girl and had the rather unique revelation that he would do anything for her and never leave her behind.

That is one thing old Kanan and I have in common. You already know that, don't you Sam, that I will never leave you behind. I understand why you asked me to take the snake—at least my fantasy is that you can't live without me any more than I can live without you. Shit, there I go, being fanciful again. Most of the time I can keep those feelings buried deep—just being around you is enough. Just having the hope that one day we'll be able to express our love freely keeps me going. 

It keeps me going here, clinging to the threads of my sanity each time the knife bites into me or the acid dissolves my flesh or the pokers burn my body. Each time I feel a little bit more of myself eroding away. I don't know how many times I can die before there's nothing left of me to revive—or will I even know there's nothing left? An empty husk, everything that was me sucked out by the sarcophagus? 

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Day Seven 

My dearest Sam:

I've asked Daniel to end it—don't be shocked. But then again, I haven't seen him for a few days. If I ever saw him. I can't betray her to Ba'al. Betraying her would be betraying you and all that you mean to me. I could no more hand her over to Ba'al than I could hand you over. But all he can talk about is that ascension crap. Both you and I know that would never work for me. I thought Daniel knew me better than that. He just doesn’t get who I really am—otherwise he wouldn't ask me to go all glowy. But you understand me, Sam. All that I am and all that I can be with you. All that I want to be with you. 

I've never been a big believer in 'soul mates', but as I feel my soul being slowly sucked away by the sarcophagus, I'm starting to believe. I'm starting to believe that you are my soul mate, you're certainly the better part of me. We can't have faced this much adversity to not realize that whatever happens, it will always be you and me...no matter what happens. I will find a way to end this, Sam. With or without Daniel's help.

Always, Jack

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Day Eight

My dearest Sam:

I think I must've slept. At least I woke up on the hard floor of my cell this time instead of the sarc. And I dreamed again, a jumble of images, but one thing was constant—you were always there. When this is all over, when I'm back home, I'm taking you to the cabin. You're going fishing with me even if I have to hog-tie you and throw you in the back of the truck!

Late summer is beautiful at the cabin. The nights cool off, but the days are still warm. We can drive or fly—whatever you prefer. But I think I might prefer to drive. I need some wide-open spaces after being cooped up for god knows how long. We'll leave before dawn, so we can be through Denver before rush hour starts. You can sleep through Eastern Colorado and we'll have breakfast at Fort Morgan. Nothing fancy, but the City Café serves a real breakfast—bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast. We'll head east through Nebraska, following the Platte. You can drive through Nebraska and I'll sleep—with my head in your lap. Since there's two of us, we'll drive straight through. But we'll definitely stop for a steak dinner in Omaha. Johnny's isn't too far off the Interstate. It's probably best to drive through Iowa at night anyway. We can listen to music or books on tape or just talk. It doesn’t matter really, because you'll be with me.

We'll have breakfast somewhere in Minneapolis; there's an IHOP in Maplewood. And I know how much you like the Swedish pancakes. Don't worry about the calorie count, we'll have plenty of time to exercise once we're at the cabin. It's not far now to Duluth and then we're almost there. We'll stop in Duluth for groceries and other supplies. I don't plan on leaving the cabin for a long time once we get there.

Once we leave the main highway, it's not far at all. You'll see the lake first, peeking through the trees. It's not a huge lake, but plenty big enough for those of us who live there. We'll pass the road that leads to our nearest neighbors first—the Lindstrom's—and then a couple of more miles to the O'Neill place. Another quarter of a mile down through a stand of birch and evergreen and you'll catch your first glimpse of the cabin. It's painted dark brown—good sized with a fireplace. Dock just off the back. We'll have to get the boat out of the boathouse, but we'll have plenty of time. There are two bedrooms—sleeping arrangements are negotiable. But if you've come this far with me Sam, you might as well go all the way.

I'll teach you how to fish and you can teach me wormhole physics. And in-between we'll sleep and make love. We'll stay for as long as we want, watching the trees slowly change from green to gold, the days shorter and the nights longer. The hot summer days giving way to the cool, crisp days of autumn. And what's happening in the rest of the world and universe won't matter because the only thing that matters is you, me and our love.

Daniel still won't help, but he says you've found a way. I didn't dare hope, didn't dare demand that you solve this problem and then do the impossible once again. I know I push, I know I ask too much and expect the impossible from you time and again. And you never fail me. 

I'll hang on, Sam. I'll take the opportunity you give me and I'll do what Kanan couldn't, I'll save her. And I'll come home to you.

Always, Jack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wiped her eyes and once more blew her nose. Her head ached and her eyes hurt from too many tears. Carefully closing the notebook, she set it on the coffee table. His jacket slipped off her lap and she grabbed it, hugging it and burying her face in its soft folds, letting her grief out. She cried for him, she cried for herself and she cried for what could have been. He'd never said anything, never done anything different after those dark days that he'd been missing. And she hadn't either. God, she'd even decided she needed to get over him and had embarked on one of the more disastrous relationships she'd ever had. All to get over him. Which had to be the biggest cosmic joke of all, because as she had discovered, there was no 'getting over' Jack O'Neill.

Exhausted, she lay down on the sofa, still hugging his jacket. She thought about what she'd read, totally overwhelmed by his strength and determination—and the stark reality of the torture he'd experienced at Ba'al's hands. She had known terrible things had happened to him and she was humbled that she had been his anchor. He'd only been gone a week and she already felt totally adrift. Beyond losing him, the changes at the SGC were trying everyone's patience and ability to adapt. For the last seven years he had been the one constant in her life—her anchor. Even with the ever-present hope of somehow reviving him, the future still loomed dark. But maybe she could find her anchor.

Sitting up, she took his jacket with her and went to her desk. Opening drawers, she found what she was looking for, pulling out a fairly new spiral notebook with the USAF Academy logo on it. Jack had written letters to her to keep his sanity—maybe she could do the same.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

30 March

My dearest Jack:

It's been a long time since I've kept a journal—or even written a letter by hand. But somehow for this, for you, it seems appropriate. I had to clean out your locker today. Yeah, I know. You've only been frozen? That doesn't sound right—let's just use 'stasis'. You've only been in stasis for a week and already they need your locker. But they do, so I volunteered. Put everything in a box and brought it home with me. I'll wash your clothes and I know this sounds pathetic, but I've got your jacket draped over my shoulders as I write.

I can't help it—pretty sad and very high school. But it makes me feel close to you. It smells like you. Don't laugh—it's a scientific fact that the female is attracted to males with the proper scent. You have always smelled 'right' to me. Even stinking of sweat, blood, mud and cordite. I can always smell you. And your after shave. I'm sorry love, but it's so you—no frills for my man.

So everything is in a state of flux around here. Doctor Weir is still in charge. I've heard murmuring about some new discovery but I’m totally out of the loop. For now, SG-1 is grounded—along with the majority of the exploration teams. I'm stuck in my lab—finally a chance to catch up on everything, I guess. Daniel told me he's been assigned to help the team that will study the Ancients' chamber where you activated the weapon—and currently reside. We figured it wasn't safe to move you and I hate that Daniel will get to be there, where you are, and I won't. I wanted to go, but Weir refused. Said I was needed more here. To do what, I'm not sure. Damn it! I want to go with Daniel and figure out a way to help you!

But, I was telling you about cleaning out your locker. I found the notebook, Jack. The one where you wrote about your captivity with Ba'al, what you wrote about me—about us. And yes, I read it. And if I didn't love you so much—and if you weren't encased in ice—I'd hit you. Damn you for never telling me! For never taking me fishing! I would have gone—and I will go, once you get back.

All my love, Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

05 April

My dearest Jack:

It's quiet and kind of lonely around the base. Daniel and his team left late last night for Antarctica. He's promised to get his computer and camera link set up right away so we can communicate. I should be with him instead of stuck here. Oh I know, please spare me the lecture that my work on refining the technology on the Modified TER is important. And that I shouldn't complain because I have the burned out crystal energy core from Antarctica to study. But it isn't anything that will directly help you. I went to Hammond, but he can't help me, just says to be patient.

Teal'c and Master Bra'tac left today to take a census of the rebel Jaffa, if they can find any. They're also going to try and contact my father—or any of the Tok'ra. Colonel Weaver and SG-18 went to K'tau to try and contact the Asgard, but the monument doesn't work—no energy signature at all. It's like they've dropped from the face of the universe. We even tried the Tollan device we used to contact the Nox years ago, but that's dead as well. It pretty much looks like it's up to Daniel and his team. While all I can do is crunch numbers and calculate naquadah decay rates. 

I miss you. I miss having lunch with you. I miss your laugh, you teasing Daniel. I miss the way my insides would melt every time you walked into a room. I miss your smile and your lame jokes. I miss knowing that you're there, if I ever need you. I know it hasn't been easy for us and I know I've done some things, okay, one really big thing, that would cause you to question how I feel for you. But don't wonder, because I love you. And when I'm not calculating decay rates, know that I'm studying every bit of data we have on the Ancients to try and help you.

All my love, Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

13 April

My dearest Jack:

Well, no new is no news, I guess. I video link with Daniel most everyday. So far nothing conclusive—or new—to report. It's cold (no news flash there). He thinks maybe in another week they'll have documented all the writings, etc and he may come home. We had a scheduled radio contact with Teal'c and Bra'tac yesterday. They've made contact with two rebel camps and sent messages with anyone who might be in touch with the Tok'ra, but nothing so far. They're traveling on the periphery of Ba'al's empire, I'm sure there must be some Tok'ra operatives there. It's just all so frustrating!

And I wonder about you. What it's like for you. Are you just sleeping? Do you dream? Or is it like when Ba'al killed you and revived you with the sarcophagus? Nothingness, no awareness until that moment when you're once more alive? I hope it's like sleep and that you dream. I hope you dream of me.

Last night I dreamt we were on your beach—the one in Mexico. I had on my black bikini. The one I don't like to wear because I'm too pale, but you tell me I worry too much. That I look just perfect in it. No matter how hard I try to dream you in Speedos, you're always wearing the same grungy old board shorts. We were snorkeling. The reef just offshore was full of fish, hundreds of them, all the colors of a vibrant rainbow against the deeper blue of the ocean. I didn't even notice at first that the water was getting choppy, so caught up in the beauty of the reef. We had drifted away from each other. I tried to swim to you, but the swells were too strong and you didn't see me. I kept trying to reach you until a huge wave came and swept me up in its power and flung me on the beach like I was nothing more than a piece of driftwood. I woke with tears on my face.

I don't want to lose you now, this way. Not alive and yet not dead. I swear to you, Jack, we will find a way to cure you.

Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

19 April 

My dearest Jack:

My hands are shaking so I can barely write. And I should be preparing for our new mission, but I had to write you first. I'm so excited and scared and I keep telling myself I can't count on this lead to pan out—but it's all we have. Teal'c and Bra'tac returned unexpectedly today and they brought with them the last person I ever expected to see on Earth—Harry Maybourne!

He has a scroll and a key. I know, I know...Maybourne and his keys aren't to be trusted, but I really think he's sincere. Or else I'm really desperate—probably both. He really wants to help you Jack, says he 'owes you'. His motives don't really matter though; this is the first concrete lead we've had. Daniel's hopping the weekly cargo plane back from Antarctica tomorrow and we'll be off in three days.

Sergeant Davis called me from the control room when Teal'c's IDC came through. I didn't even recognize Maybourne at first. His hair is longer, he's leaner—but not unhealthy looking. The closest description I can come up with for his clothing is fur trader—or Daniel Boone, minus the coonskin cap. And I suppose 'trader' is a fair assessment. I'm not sure what Weir thinks of him, she is giving him—and his story—the benefit of a doubt though.

As you might imagine, the Tok'ra 'relocated' Maybourne to the closest civilized planet with a Stargate. According to Maybourne, they gave him enough supplies, etc to start a new life. But retirement and rural life quickly lost its appeal and he soon started traveling and making a living as a trader—and acquirer—of whatever his clients needed. His travels took him to Vis Uban (you know, the planet where we found Daniel) and while he was there, he acquired this scroll and key. I know, you're going to ask 'from whom', just like we did. And his reply was typical—'another merchant'. Evidently this other trader had recently been on several planets that were littered with very old ruins. Unfortunately, he wouldn't share the gate addresses with Maybourne, but he needed local currency, so he traded the scroll and key with Maybourne. 

Of course, I was skeptical. How the hell had Maybourne heard about you and why did he think this key might help us? Evidently the intergalactic grapevine is just as efficient as the SGC's and word of Anubis' defeat and your contribution—and current condition—spread like wildfire. And on the scroll, sir—a drawing of an Ancients' knowledge repository like the ones you've accessed. And in the Ancients writings on the scroll? Teal'c recognized the words for a gate address. So, we cross-referenced it with the gate addresses we got from your first encounter with one of those repositories and matched it with a planet on the list we haven't sent a probe to yet. So...that's where we're going in three days time. Hopefully once Daniel gets here, we can finish the translation of the scroll, so that we have some idea of what we might find. We're sending a MALP through tomorrow and I just pray to god that conditions are favorable. 

I just...Jack, this has to be something that can help you. I know I'm grasping at straws, I mean, there must be so many other things this key could be for, but I have to believe that it will help you somehow. 

All my love, Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

23 April 

My dearest Jack:

I should really be trying to get some sleep, we head out at 0600 and it's well past midnight, but I'm just too edgy to sleep yet. Daniel has managed to translate most of the scroll and it's typically vague. I'd write the whole thing down for you, but it's packed up with my gear in the lab and I don't want to get dressed to go back down there. Sleeping in my panties and tank top...but I digress.  The quick and dirty translation is that the key unlocks a device (for lack of a better word) that facilitates 'The Savant'. Daniel's words, not mine. And no, not 'savant' like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman, savant as in a 'learned person' or 'eminent scholar'. 

So, you can see why I'm edgy...and excited...and can't sleep. This might be exactly what we're looking for! It's not that far of a leap to infer that this 'Savant' is someone who has accessed one of the Ancients repositories of knowledge. Oh Jack, this is the most hope I've felt since this all happened. Ever since I watched you put your head into that...thing, I've felt like I've been living in some kind of horrible alternate universe where you're dead and I have to find a way to go on living without you. 

Oh god Jack, I know that I've made mistakes this past year and that you have every reason to doubt me. And I have no excuse. I just wanted something normal...and ended up with a fucking mess. But that doesn't matter now, I don't want normal, I don't want the house with the picket fence, two point whatever kids and a dog, I want you! Alive and well and loving me. Don't get me wrong, if we have a dog and maybe even kids, that's great. But right now I'd settle for you here with me...in this bed...with me. Okay, enough of that. I really need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day and I don't want to be dragging.

All my love, Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

24 April 

My dearest Jack:

I don't think this will be very long tonight. I'm exhausted and cold, and even wrapped up in my sleeping bag, close to the fire, my fingers will be too numb to hold the pen soon. This planet—P2X-497, has a climate similar to the alpine tundra, or at least that's what it's like where the 'Gate is located. Feels like late winter in the high country, snow on the ground, cool days and still very cold nights. We're on some kind of high plateau surrounded by even higher peaks, blanketed with snow. Some serious clouds were forming before it got dark; our camp will probably be blanketed with snow in the morning. We're camped in some ruins on the outskirts of a huge, deserted city. Daniel describes the architecture as Norman-ish, think William the Conqueror and the White Tower. 

I didn't tell you, did I? I'm in command of this mission. Exciting and scary. And yes, I know I've been in command before, but this time, it's just different. It's different because so much hinges on this mission and what we find. Of course, there really isn't that much commanding to do, at least with Teal'c and Daniel. Captain Gage is with us, which is oddly comforting. I know you've always thought he was too unimaginative, but he's solid and dependable and that's what I need, since Harry Maybourne is with us too. It's nice to know there's someone solid and dependable watching our backs. 

I'm not really thrilled that Maybourne's here with us, but he convinced Weir and it's possible he will be of some help. Or else he's just bored or maybe just hungry. I swear, I've never seen anyone wolf down MRE's or dining hall food the way he has the past few days. Or coffee! Mmm...Teal'c just made hot chocolate. Now if I only had some Baileys. We can have that at the cabin, Jack. When we go fishing. 

I’m scared, Jack. Scared of what we'll find—or won't find—tomorrow. I'm really trying to not get my hopes up, but it's hard. I want you back. I want to go to Mexico and swim in the warm, blue ocean. I want to go to your cabin and fish and make love. I want it all and I want it with you. And if Maybourne is right and this place really does hold the key to helping you, then we will have it all, Jack. 

All my love, Sam

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sam closed her precious notebook and stuffed it into her pack. It had been an indulgence to bring it with her on this mission, an indulgence she couldn't deny. Writing to Jack made her feel closer to him and she had come to depend on the quiet moments spent 'talking' to him. She missed that more than anything, being able to talk and share with him. She wished he were here now, sharing the burden of this mission with her. Right, she thought wryly, if he were here, they wouldn't even be on this mission.

"Major Carter?" Teal'c crouched down next to her. "You should rest," he said gently, taking the now empty mug of cocoa out of her hand.

She had been so absorbed in her journal, she hadn't even realized the others had drifted off to their tents, Gage and Maybourne in one, the second slightly larger one for the three members of SG-1. "You're right, Teal'c, of course." Gathering her pack and sleeping bag, she grabbed the gloved hand Teal'c held out to her, letting him pull her to her feet.

"You miss O'Neill."

Sam glanced sharply at Teal'c, wondering what had brought that comment out—or if he had seen what she was writing—but his face was as impassive as ever. She sighed, deciding to take his comment at face value. "Yeah, I do."

He reached out and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We will find a way to help him, of this I am confident."

Her lips curved in a slight smile. "I hope so, Teal'c, I really hope so." She turned and walked the few steps over to the tent where Daniel already lay sleeping. "Wake me for my watch in four hours?" Teal'c nodded somberly and turned back to the fire, leaving Sam to crawl into her cold bed and dream of O'Neill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam shifted her weapon to a more comfortable position, glancing around the small chamber in which the five of them were currently jammed. She, Teal'c and Gage had been trailing behind Daniel and a surprisingly knowledgeable Maybourne for the better part of the day, traipsing through ruin after ruin, chamber after chamber. Daniel's video camera was going constantly and Gage had just given him another tape and a fresh battery. Every now and then the two of them—Maybourne and Daniel—would stop and study the scroll, before heading off to yet another ruined building.

There was a sudden flurry of activity in the corner where Daniel and Maybourne were crouched. Daniel jumped to his feet, his fingers gliding along some hidden seam on the rock wall. 

"Have you found it yet?" Maybourne asked, his voice excited. Sam inched a bit closer to the two men, Teal'c and Gage right behind her.

"Yeah, I think...right here." Daniel used both his hands then and there was the low sound of stone grating on stone and the wall started to move inwards. Before Sam could stop him, Daniel had his flashlight in his hand and was already inching into the dark chamber. 

"Daniel! Wait!" she ordered, squeezing past Maybourne. Daniel turned quizzical blue eyes toward her. "We do this the right way, Daniel. We don't have any idea what's in there," she hissed.

He blinked and his head bobbed in a small nod. "Right. Sorry, Sam." He stepped back out of the entry to the chamber. 

"Daniel, you're behind me, then Teal'c and then Maybourne." She looked back to the door through which they'd entered. "Gage, you bring up the rear." Maybourne looked like he wanted to say something, but Sam fixed him with a glare and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Right then, let's see what you've found, Daniel."

Bringing her weapon up into ready and switching the light on, Sam stepped cautiously through the narrow opening. The air was musty and damp, the rough floor gradually sloping downwards as she walked. "Daniel, just where does this lead?"

His voice echoed eerily behind her. "Umm...we're not really sure, Sam. The scroll isn't real specific."

"Right," she muttered, stopping suddenly when her light illuminated a stone wall directly in their path. "Ah, Daniel." She flashed her light around the wall. "We seem to be at a dead-end."

Daniel squirmed past her, Maybourne moved past Teal'c and the two men conferred over the scroll. "This has to be the right chamber," Maybourne commented. "There has to be a similar mechanism to open it."

Sam, Teal'c and Gage all shone their lights on the wall while the two men inspected it. "I know," Daniel replied, moving his right hand slowly over the face of the rocks. He paused, "Wait, I think...." He pressed against a section of the wall with both hands. Nothing happened. "Teal'c," he called back over his shoulder. "Give us a hand?"

Sam pressed up against the cold wall, letting Teal'c past her, where he joined Daniel and Maybourne. The combined efforts of the three men managed to shift one of the stone bricks making up the wall. 

Daniel stuck his hand into the small space revealed. "Yeah," he said, twisting his body and reaching further into the opening. "I think I can feel the mechanism." There was a whirring sound and then the chamber was filled with the sound of stone grating on stone. Daniel pulled his hand free and stood back as the wall moved, revealing yet another dark chamber. 

"Daniel," Sam said in warning, when he would have gone right into the room. He frowned, but stepped back, letting her through. Moving cautiously, the only thing she could tell from the light on her weapon was that the chamber was large. She stepped over the threshold and blinked in sudden surprise and confusion when the room was brightly illuminated. The men behind her surged into the room and they looked around in awe. 

"We have seen this before," Teal'c finally said.

"P3R-272!"

Sam looked at Daniel, his whole face aglow with excitement. 

"P3R-272! That's where we've seen this! On the planet where Jack looked into the Ancients Repository five years ago!" Sam watched him with exasperated affection as his eyes darted around the room. She looked herself, the smooth walls and floor of the chamber a sharp contrast to the roughly hewn exterior buildings they'd come through. The room temperature was pleasantly warm and light filled the room from no discernable source, exactly like the chamber on P3R-272.

"I wonder," Daniel murmured and walked across the center of the chamber, stepping on a design laid into the marble floor. Almost immediately one of the Ancients' knowledge devices appeared on the wall opposite from where they'd entered.

"Holy shit," Gage muttered. 

"Yes!" Maybourne exclaimed, punching the air with his fist. 

"Daniel," Sam cautioned as the eager archaeologist walked over to the device. "Be careful." She was both fascinated and repelled by it. And she wondered despairingly how this could help them, given it was what had caused Jack's problem to begin with. Maybe there was something else hidden in the chamber....

"Maybe this time," Daniel murmured, slipping his pack off his shoulders. Before Sam realized what he was going to do, he crossed over to the alien apparatus.

"Daniel!" she shouted. "Don't!" She dimly heard Teal'c echo her warning, but they were too late. Daniel threw himself at the device, his hands on it, his face pressed into the aperture. Sam watched in horror as the device grabbed his head and held him for long moments before retracting. As she feared, he fell to the floor and the spell holding all of them immobile was broken and they ran to him, Teal'c reaching him first.

"Daniel Jackson." He knelt next to the unconscious man, pulling him into a sitting position cradled against his body.

"Daniel," Sam said urgently, kneeling next to him and gently pressing her fingers to the pulse point in his neck. His pulse throbbed slow and steady beneath her fingers. "Daniel?" She patted his cheek, relief filling her when his eyes slowly opened. "How do you feel?" she asked, anxiety already consuming her that he was going to face the same fate as Jack. 

"Fine," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position and repositioning his glasses on his face. She and Teal'c stood, the latter helping Daniel to his feet. Gage handed him his hat, which had fallen off during his encounter with the device.

"Fine?" Sam asked skeptically. He looked okay, not all weak and disoriented like Jack had always been after his use of those devices. 

"What did you learn?" Maybourne asked, his voice brimming with excitement.

"It doesn't work that way, Maybourne," Sam snapped, irritated with the man and his enthusiasm.

"No, I mean, it does work that way, at least for me."

"Daniel? What haven't you told us?" She was starting to get an even worse feeling about all of this. He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and Sam recognized the simple gesture as one of his usual 'delaying' tactics. "Just spit it out."

He put his glasses on and then plopped his hat down on his head. He wouldn't meet her eyes, instead he looked at some spot over her shoulder and started talking. "It was more of a gut feeling than anything—and this scroll," he waved his hand toward Maybourne who still clutched the parchment in one hand, "and my recent work in Antarctica merely confirmed my suspicions. I realized that the designers of these knowledge repositories were able to access them and use them at will. I mean, what would be the point if the creators of the device couldn't activate them, to add to them, maintain them or whatever?"

Sam nodded, the queasy feeling in her stomach not lessening as she suddenly realized what he had done—and the risk he had taken.

"And since I was an ascended being for over a year, it seemed reasonable to assume that I could access the device."

"And you just discovered this now?" Sam winced, the accusation hanging heavily in the air.

Some of the glow of excitement faded from his face. His eyes were serious. "More or less," he admitted.

"Do you possess the knowledge of the Ancients, Daniel Jackson?"

Leave it to Teal'c to cut right to the chase, Sam thought.

"No, Teal'c."

Sam's heart fell and it was all she could to not start screaming her frustration at Daniel, Maybourne and this wild goose chase. 

And then Daniel grinned. "But I do know how to cure Jack."

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

25 April

My dearest Jack:

Oh my love, it won't be long now! This trip has given us more than I had dared to dream or hope—it has given us a way to help you! If whatever knowledge Daniel obtained actually works. As soon as we get back to the SGC and then to the Antarctic base, we can begin the process of reviving you and removing the Ancients knowledge from your brain.

It's all so incredible, I can barely believe it, but then I guess I should be used to the unbelievable happening. After what seemed like hours of following after Daniel and Maybourne, we finally found the Ancients' chamber. And a repository of knowledge. Maybe you can guess the rest, I should have expected it, but Daniel took me by complete surprise. Yes, he stuck his head in it. However, it didn't have the same effect on him as it did on you. Daniel says it's because of the year he was ascended, that his brain is 'wired' differently now. Yeah, I know, his brain has always been wired differently, but evidently he thinks he's protected from any of the more deleterious effects. I hope he's right.

Plus, this repository doesn't appear to have contained all the Ancients' knowledge. As Daniel explains it, there are probably hundreds of these repositories scattered around the universe. You have had the rather dubious honor of being in contact with two that contained vast amounts of their knowledge. Daniel theorizes—based on his other research and Maybourne's scroll—that this particular repository is like a medical library, containing information specific to only certain things—like helping you. I pray he's right. 

I'm worried about him, Jack. He says he feels okay, but he barely made it back to our camp before collapsing with exhaustion. He was in no shape to make the trip back to the Stargate tonight, so we'll head out first thing in the morning. I guess at this point, a few more days in stasis won't make that big a difference. Of course, now we're going to have to worry about helping Daniel, even though he claims it won't be a problem. I'm not so sure exchanging one 'hostage' for another is the answer for all of this. But he made that decision on his own. 

And god help me, as much as I love Daniel, I obviously love you more. And of course, in a completely different way. And I’m so relieved and thrilled that he can help you that I feel guilty because of what could happen to him. Is it so horrible that I want you restored more than I am worried about Daniel? Maybe...but I'm through denying how I feel when it comes to you. All I know is that tonight I won't feel as cold and alone, because I have hope now.

All my love, Sam

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~

27 April

My dearest Jack:

The last twenty-four hours have been crazy, but we're finally on the C-130 headed to the Antarctic and you. Maybourne has gone back to wherever it is he calls home. I don't know what kind of deal he made with Weir, but he left with more than he came with. I guess I can't begrudge him that, especially since he was instrumental in getting us this far. And he said I’m to tell you, Jack, that you and he are even now. Of course, this is all contingent on Daniel actually being able to help you!

I'm worried about Daniel. He's pale and haggard looking, dark circles under his eyes. I'm not sure if he's slept at all since we got back. Every time I see him, he's hunched over his laptop or else writing madly in one of his ever-present notebooks. Teal'c has been our rock through all of this, I know he's been watching over Daniel—and me too, I'm sure. I've seen the new doctor checking him out too, when she thinks no one is looking. Her name is Brightman, first name starts with an S or something. I hear she's good, she'd better be. God, I wish Janet was here, she's done this before. What if Brightman screws up the rewarming? I mean, it will be more organized this time, she's brought a whole team and what seems like tons of equipment with her. But I still wish Janet was here. 

I'm scared, Jack. Even more scared than when you put your head in the repository. More scared than when Anubis was attacking or when you were encased in the ice. What if we thaw you and Daniel can't help you? What if after all this, we accidentally kill you in our eagerness to revive you? Aiyanna was frozen for millions of years, maybe we're moving too fast. But we don't have millions of years—I don't have millions of years. I keep reminding myself Aiyanna had an infection, you have something totally different. And Daniel seems so confident. I refuse to accept that it will end like this for us. So I guess we'll go into this fighting, Jack, just like we always do. In less than twenty-four hours we'll know. You'll either be with us or lost to us. And if you're lost, I don't know what I'll do, because I'll be lost as well.

All my love, Sam

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Francie." Sam hugged the other woman in greeting. "Good to see you again."

"Same here, Sam." The dark haired woman turned to greet Teal'c. "Welcome back, Teal'c."

He inclined his head. "Doctor Michaels."

Sam took her gloves off and unzipped her jacket, starting to feel the warmth of the small anteroom. "Francie, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson, Doctor Brightman and her team."

"Doctor Jackson, nice to have you here at our base." Daniel nodded, slipping his hood off and unzipping his jacket as well. Francie turned to Doctor Brightman next. "Doctor Brightman. We've got everything prepared, just the way you asked."

"All right, people. Follow me." Doctor Brightman nodded at Francie. "Lead the way."

Sam stood back, feeling totally useless as Brightman followed Michaels, her team falling into pace behind her, hauling cases of medical equipment. It really was in the doctor's hands now. Sam followed the medical entourage into the next tier of rooms, leaving their outerwear in the anteroom. She squeezed past a technician and walked next to Francie. "Were there any problems transporting him here?"

"No, we were able to maintain the same temperature as the chamber he was in. Not really a problem keeping someone frozen around here." Sam couldn't stop the small frown at the other woman's words. "I'm sorry, Sam. That was thoughtless of me."

Sam smiled gamely at her. "No, that's okay, I do understand. He'd say the same thing, if he could." 

Francie nodded and pushed open the door to the next room. "Well, here we are." The medical team and SG-1 crowded into the observation area that looked into the isolation room. Sam stepped up to the window, practically pressing her face against the glass. She could barely breathe and she struggled to get her turbulent emotions under control. She thought she had prepared herself, to see him like this again. But if anything, it was worse than when they had left, over a month ago. Because this time she knew how he felt—and what she could lose. Pressing her hand against the cool glass of the window, she took a shuddering breath. 

Sam was dimly aware of the flurry of activity behind her. If Brightman and her medical team were taken aback by what they saw, they hid it well. The doctor issued a few terse orders, her people immediately getting to work and then she turned to Michaels. "This will take a while. I want all non-essential personnel to leave the observation room." 

Sam turned from the window, her eyes narrowed as she studied Brightman. Daniel frowned and straightened up from where he'd been lounging against a desk and even Teal'c raised an eyebrow at the Doctor's curt order. Even though she'd spoken to Michaels, Sam knew the comment was directed to the members of SG-1. 

"We'll be staying, Doctor. We've been through this before." Sam kept her face impassive as Brightman studied her. If this was going to turn into a battle of wills, well, Brightman wouldn't know what had hit her. 

Brightman's eyes flickered over each member of SG-1 and then she sighed. "Very well. But just remember, I'm in charge of the resuscitation."

Daniel muttered, "Yes, ma'am," under his breath. Teal'c acknowledged her with a glacial nod of his head. Sam nodded as well, keeping her expression stern even though she was secretly relieved that she had been spared a confrontation with the doctor. She turned her attention back to the isolation room. Two of the technicians were already in there, setting up their equipment and unpacking the cardiopulmonary bypass machine.

"Is that really the best way?" she murmured to Francie, who had come to stand beside her. She was aware of the other woman's quizzical look, but ignored her, keeping her eyes focused on the vague outline of the man she loved that was visible through the thick ice. 

"It's the safest way, Sam," she answered softly. "The only reason we didn't use it with Aiyanna is because we didn't have the set-up here."

Sam sighed. "I just wish Janet was here."

"I'm sorry, I heard that she died." 

"It's been a tough year."

The intercom beeped. "Doctor Michaels?" Brightman's voice rang in the room, sounding tinny and distorted. "You can start warming up the room." Francie immediately went to turn up the heat; the techs in the room turned on the bank of heat lamps arranged along the coffin of ice, the ice eerily reflecting the orange glow of the lamps.

"Sam?" 

She spun around at the sound of Daniel's voice. He looked exhausted, slumped in a chair now. 

"Is there somewhere I can lie down for a while?"

Sam looked at Francie, giving an almost imperceptible nod. "Sure," Francie said briskly, "I'll take you to your quarters and you can rest there." 

Daniel stood and when he staggered a bit, Teal'c immediately steadied him. "I will accompany you, Daniel Jackson." 

Sam nodded when Teal'c looked to her for confirmation. She silently watched as they left, Daniel leaning heavily against Teal'c. The fear that had been gnawing away at her gut ever since Daniel had stuck his head in the repository clawed at her insides before she could squash it back down. She shivered, and not from the chill of the room, once more turning back to the windows that separated her from Jack. Daniel appeared to be weakening by the minute, in spite of his sporadic protests that he was okay. She selfishly prayed that whatever was happening to him wouldn't be complete until Jack was resuscitated and he could do whatever it was that he had 'learned'. 

Sitting down, Sam watched the activity in the isolation room. Brightman was calm and efficient, she could tell, oddly reassured by the woman's economical actions and words. The three technicians worked just as efficiently. As the ice was started to melt, it became clearer and it was much easier to see him, which in turn only increased her anxiety. So much could go wrong. 

"How's it going?" 

Sam didn't look away from Jack when Francie's voice broke the quiet of the room. "The ice is starting to melt."

"Doctor Jackson doesn't look so good." Francie sat down next to her, looking into the isolation room as well. 

"It was a long trip."

"Maybe you should go get some rest too, Sam."

She looked briefly at Francie, seeing only concern in her eyes. "I'll be fine. I...can't leave." Francie seemed to accept her vague explanation, for which Sam was grateful.

"So what happens once he's revived? Everyone has been annoyingly vague."

The ice had melted enough that the technicians were able to carefully remove some larger chunks of it. She wasn't sure how much she should actually tell the other woman and finally settled for the truth—or at least one version of it. "We acquired a device and Daniel found the instructions on how to operate it. It should heal his mind."

"We have a cortical response."

Sam's eyes flew to the isolation room. Doctor Brightman was bending over Jack, examining him. One of the technicians was applying electrodes to his head. 

Francie reached for the intercom. "What about the EEG?"

Brightman looked at the machine and then directly at them. For the first time since Sam had met the other woman, a slight smile touched her face. "Delta waves, just like the last time."

Sam felt a rush of pure, undiluted relief. He was still alive. She hadn't even realized until now that she had been worried that he might have already died while in stasis. From that moment onward, there was non-stop activity in the isolation room. Sam could follow some of what they were doing. Enough of the ice had melted, so the techs carefully lifted Jack onto a waiting gurney. He was intubated and the portable ventilator put to work. IV's were started and Sam knew they were infusing warm fluids, to speed his resuscitation. His clothing was cut away, then he was prepped and draped for the cardiopulmonary bypass, Doctor Brightman swiftly inserting the necessary cannulas into his femoral artery and vein.

Brightman stripped off her gloves and looked toward them, speaking into the intercom. "It shouldn't be long now. His core temperature is already twenty-eight centigrade. We'll be able to defibrillate soon."

"That's good," Sam murmured. She took a deep breath, willing herself to relax and unclenching her tightly closed hands. "How much longer now, do you think?" she asked Francie.

"Well, this really isn't my area of expertise, but I know they're going to take it slow, give his body plenty of time to adjust on its own. Maybe thirty minutes? His heart might even start on its own."

Sam nodded and then her eyes were once more helplessly drawn back to the isolation room and Jack. Did he know what they were doing? Was he aware on some level that they were fighting for his life? And was he fighting with them? God, she hoped so, she hoped that he was fighting with everything that he had. She placed her hand on the glass again, it felt warmer this time, just like his skin must feel warmer. 

"The waiting is the hardest, isn't it?"

"Hmmm?" Sam's eyes jerked over to Francie. "I’m sorry," Sam murmured, the concern in the other woman's eyes telling Sam that her actions had probably revealed more than was advisable. "It's just been...difficult." 

"He means a lot to all of you, I can tell." Francie's smile was sympathetic. She stood then and stretched. "Want some coffee? I'm going to go get some."

"Sure, that would be nice," Sam agreed. She watched Francie leave and then once more resumed her vigil. Brightman and the techs were just waiting now; periodically one of them would make an adjustment on the bypass machine. Sam watched, almost mesmerized, by the steady flow of blood through the tubing, leaving his body, being warmed and then flowing back into him. Warming his heart, his brain, and his other organs until they were warm enough to sustain his life. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt so cold and she wondered idly if she’d feel any warmer once he was revived.

Ever since she had cleaned out his locker and found the letters he'd written, she had been in a kind of stasis too. Her life on hold until he was revived and she could ask him about what he'd written. Hopefully share with him what she'd written and make some kind of decision about what the future held—together. She really didn't care what happened, as long as they could be together. Hell, she'd quit the Air Force or she'd carry on a secret affair with him and forget about the regulations. Acknowledging and acting on their love wouldn't compromise her honor and integrity; it would only affirm it.

The door behind her opened and Francie pressed a mug of hot coffee into her hand. "Thanks." Sam took it, the heat of the mug warming her hands. Taking a sip, she never let her gaze waver from the activity in the isolation room. Something was happening; Brightman and her team were once more clustered around Jack and the equipment. Sam leaned closer, trying to see what was happening. She finally set her coffee down and stood, pressing against the glass. "What's going on?" 

Francie stood next to her. "He's probably warm enough now that they're trying to decide whether to defibrillate or not."

"Aiyanna's heart started beating on her own," Sam murmured. "We didn't have to do anything, remember?"

Francie hesitated for a moment, before speaking into the intercom. "Doctor Brightman? Our last patient revived on her own."

Brightman didn't look up from what she was doing, but Sam could hear the annoyance in her voice when she answered. "Thank you, Doctor Michaels. I am fully aware—"

"We have a heartbeat!" The excited voice of one of the technician's cut off whatever Brightman had been about to say. 

The isolation room seemed to explode with activity then. More drugs were given, more blood was withdrawn, adjustments made to the various monitors and equipment attached to him. Sam gasped, pressing her hands against the glass, when his whole body convulsed, lifting his torso off the table. 

"He's conscious!" Brightman sounded astounded.

"Sam, wait!" Francie called after her when she barged through the door to the isolation room.

Brightman looked up, irritation filling her face. "Major Carter, I must ask you to leave. This is a critical time for our patient."

"I know, Doctor, but I'm not leaving." She wouldn't leave and nothing the doctor could do would make her leave. Sam withstood Brightman's scrutiny, not backing down. The doctor finally gave in and nodded her assent. Being careful to not get in the way of any of the technicians or equipment, Sam edged closer to the gurney. Sam knew she needed to be here with him, he'd be frightened and confused. He would need to see a familiar face.

The female technician gave her a sympathetic look and made room for her next to the bed. Sam smiled gratefully at her and squeezed into the small space; she slid her hand into his. His skin was warm. She let her fingers drift to his wrist, feeling for his pulse. Oh god, it was there, faint and slow, but it was there. Her eyes roved lovingly over his face, his eyes were closed now, not staring sadly at her through layers of ice. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with the ventilator. 

"I thought you said he was conscious?"

"He is." 

Sam inched closer to the head of the bed. "Jack," she murmured softly, caressing his cheek with a trembling hand. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her. And then he started struggling against the ET tube. "Can you take it out?" she quickly asked Brightman, while trying to soothe his struggles. "It's okay, Jack. It's okay, just breathe normally."

"His blood gases are good," one of the technicians commented. "He's over-riding the ventilator, breathing on his own."

"Okay people, let's do it then." Sam watched anxiously as Brightman moved to the head of the bed and efficiently removed the tape securing the tube. "Have the bag ready, Jamieson."

"Yes, ma'am," the technician murmured.

A paroxysm of coughing followed Brightman's removal of the ET tube, but he was breathing on his own. His eyes were open, confused and frightened. "It's okay, Jack," Sam crooned, stroking his face, holding his eyes and willing him to relax. "It's okay, you're all right." He seemed to relax at the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand. She didn't look away from him. "We need to get Daniel here right away."

"Send for Doctor Jackson," Brightman ordered. "Markus, help me with removing the pump cannulas." 

Stroking his hair seemed to calm him and Sam found it comforting as well. He was alive and soon Daniel would be here and everything would be all right. She didn't know if he understood her or not, but she kept talking to him. "We found a way to help you. We're still in Antarctica. You won't believe it, but Harry Maybourne is the one who gave us what we needed, but it's Daniel who took the greatest risk. He'll be here in a minute and then this will all be over. You'll be back with us."

"There, that should do it." 

Sam was vaguely aware that Brightman had closed the wound in Jack's groin, the tubing and drapes removed and a warm blanket placed over him. The technicians were busy in the background, dismantling and cleaning equipment; Brightman was making notations and watching the monitors. Sam heard the door open, but didn't look up, her attention focused solely on Jack.

"Major Carter."

Jack's eyes moved toward the sound of Teal'c's voice and Sam looked up. "Oh my god, Daniel!" Daniel looked positively ashen, Teal'c supporting him with an arm around his shoulders. 

"We do not have much time. Daniel grows increasingly weak."

Releasing Jack's hand, Sam went to Daniel. "Daniel, what's happening?"

"Teal'c's right, Sam. We don't have much time." He smiled grimly. "I don't have much time." He pulled free of Teal'c's supporting arm and stood straight, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the Ancients' device. "I need to get started right away." He gestured vaguely toward the medical team. "Doctor, it might be better if you and your team left." Brightman didn't look pleased, but she left, taking her team with her. 

"Daniel?"

He walked slowly to the bed. "You and Teal'c can stay, Sam." He smiled tiredly at them. "I'm really not sure what’s going to happen once I activate the device." 

"Daniel, are you sure about—"

"It's too late now, Sam," he interrupted. "The only thing to do now is follow through with what's been set in motion." He gestured back towards the bed where Jack lay. "At least this time, I can do something to help him."

She knew what he was thinking about, she'd read it in Jack's letters and she realized this was something Daniel needed to do—as much for himself as for Jack. She stood next to Teal'c and watched. 

"Jack, it won't be long now," Daniel said. Holding the Ancients' device in the palm of his right hand, he held his hand out in front of him. The device remained in his hand, even though his fingers were no longer curled around it. Sam watched intently as he closed his eyes and moved so that his hand was hovering about a foot above Jack's head. Her eyes flickered from Daniel down to Jack, his eyes were open, and his gaze focused on the device in Daniel's hand.

It was almost imperceptible at first, the low hum that seemed to originate from all corners of the room, but was coming from the device. Gradually, the hum grew louder and a soft glow emanated from the device. The circle of light gradually expanded, covering Daniel's hand, steadily increasing in size until it enveloped the two men. The light grew so bright that Sam was forced to close her eyes, the noise from the device now almost deafening. There was a sudden, brighter flash of light and sound...and then nothing—no light or noise.  
There was a crash and Sam's eyes flew open. 

Daniel lay on the floor and Jack was sitting up on the gurney, looking around in confusion, but the light of awareness was in his brown eyes. "What happened?"

Sam's knees buckled and she would have fallen if Teal'c hadn't grabbed her arm. Doctor Brightman rushed into the room, kneeling next to Daniel and calling out orders to her staff. Pulling herself together, Sam walked over to Jack, Teal'c right behind her. 

"Jack?" His eyebrows quirked at her use of his name and she almost cried in relief. He was back. 

"Yeah, Carter, Teal'c. What's going on? The last thing I remember was fighting Anubis. I take it we won?"

"Indeed we did, O'Neill."

"That's a long story, Colonel, and one I'm sure you'll remember in due time." Brightman spoke briskly, deftly maneuvering herself between them and her patient. "That goes for you two as well. Now, if you'll let me do my job?"

"New doctor?" O'Neill whispered.

"New doctor."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He recognized this place. He'd been here before. The hot dry air, the azure sky and the endless vista of sand dunes all achingly familiar._

_"Daniel."_

_He knew that voice. But it wasn't possible. "Skaa'ra?" He turned around, the loose Abydonian robes swirling around his legs._

_"I am here, Daniel." Skaa'ra stood before him, dressed in cream colored leggings and tunic, a dark brown robe draped around his shoulders, his face framed with the familiar dreadlocks._

_"But how? I don't understand."_

_"It is not your time, Daniel. You have much yet to accomplish on your journey."_

_"Been hanging out with Oma?"_

_Skaa'ra grinned, his countenance once more that of the eager young man who had helped them defeat Ra._

_"Right, right. I know, it's written in the stars and blowing in the wind." Skaa'ra continued to smile serenely at him. "All right, so what do I do?"_

_"Just open your eyes, Daniel."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Doctor Jackson, time to wake up. Open your eyes for me."

"What?" he gasped, opening his eyes and bolting upright on the bed. 

"Ah, so you are still with us."

"Doctor Brightman?" He squinted and tried to focus on the fuzzy forms he could sense around the bed.

"Here." 

Sam's voice and then his glasses pressed into his hand. He slipped them on, everyone coming into blessed focus. 

Doctor Brightman stood by the bed and she was actually smiling. "You gave us quite a scare. How do you feel?" she asked, her fingers resting lightly on his wrist, pressing gently to feel his pulse.

"I feel fine." He looked at the other faces around his bed and then he saw him, lounging against the doorjamb. "Jack!"

"Hey, Danny."

"But how? What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Sam asked.

"I...not really."

"You used the Ancients' device on O'Neill."

"So, it worked?"

Jack grinned. "Don't remember a thing."

"What about you, Daniel? Do you remember anything?"

He closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts, sensing some tiny glimmer of something. Opening his eyes he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe...something, I'm not sure. I remember the energy from the device surrounding me at the same time it was surrounding Jack. It must've had the same effect on me, as it did on Jack."

"Well, thank goodness for that, Daniel." Sam reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "I didn't know what we were going to do if we lost you, too."

"Well, what do you think, Doc?" O'Neill's voice broke the silence that had descended upon them with Sam's comment. "Is he able to travel?"

"Why shouldn't I be able to travel?"

"You were unconscious for over twelve hours, Daniel!"

"Really?"

"Really," O'Neill drawled. "So, Doc, what's the word? He seems okay."

Daniel looked expectantly at the Doctor, who released his arm and smiled. "I think everyone—including you, Colonel, will be ready to leave when our transport arrives tomorrow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

30 April

My dearest Jack:

It doesn't seem possible that I started these letters to you a month ago. Thirty days ago I despaired of ever seeing you alive again. And now you're here, back with us. You're sleeping now, strapped onto a stretcher. Brightman says that's to be expected, your body has to readjust to being 'alive' again. We all have to adjust to you being alive again. 

Daniel is doing well. He's still hunched over his laptop and his notes, hoping to jog his memory or add to what he wrote down while he had the Ancients' knowledge. I don't know how he can concentrate over the noise from the engines. But, his gamble paid off and thankfully, he doesn't appear to be any worse for the wear. And you as well. 

Oh Jack, now that you're back, this is where the rubber meets the road, so to speak. And the sooner I do it, the better. Before we both have the chance to slip back into our 'roles'. I've gotten you back and I'm not going to let you go again.

All my love, Sam

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was good to be home. Jack walked slowly from the kitchen to the living room; a Guinness clutched in his hand. He doubted Brightman would be pleased to see him with a beer, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was relax and enjoy the fact that he was alive and not 'on ice' in Antarctica. Bits and pieces of his memory were returning, flashes of what he had done while under the influence of the Ancients knowledge filtering into his awareness. If it was anything like the last time, none of it would make any sense to him, but he'd try to remember. He took a swallow of the dark beer and had just reached for the remote when the doorbell rang.

He'd seen Daniel that morning, before he'd left the base. The only person he hadn't seen since they'd landed at Petersen was Carter. He opened the door and there she stood, a large box cradled in her arms. 

"Carter." She looked tense and there were dark circles under her eyes. 

"Sir," she said, shifting the box. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm just returning your belongings that we cleared out of your locker."

Okay, that was certainly nice and all, but she could have just taken it to the base, instead of making a trip out to his house. She held the box out towards him and he had no choice but to take it from her. "Ah, thanks. You ah, want to come in?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've got some more errands to run." She backed off the porch then and Jack watched as she walked rapidly to her car. Ever since he'd been revived, he couldn't help but feel she was running from him. He'd come so close to confessing his feelings to her that day, on the Tel'tac. Maybe he should have, or maybe she hadn't expected him to survive.

Jack stepped back into the house, letting the door swing shut behind him. He carried the box into the dining room, setting down on the table. His leather jacket was carefully folded on top. He lift it out and beneath it lay the clothes he'd worn to the base that last morning. Neatly washed and folded. He lifted them out and set them next to his jacket on the table. His shaving kit was next, along with the pictures of Charlie he kept in his locker and a few other personal items. 

And there, lying in the bottom of the box, was something he had completely forgotten about. He picked up the blue notebook, opened it and read the first few lines. "The shrink says this will help. I'm not so sure myself, but if there's anything that can help stop the nightmares, I guess it's worth a try." Funnily enough, it had helped. If he ever saw Stafford again, he'd have to tell her. And then an uneasy thought intruded. Had Sam read the letters? He wasn't ashamed of what he'd written, but that might explain her behavior around him. 

There was another notebook in the bottom of the box. And it was one he definitely didn't recognize; the only person he knew who used Academy logo notebooks was Sam. His heart pounded as he picked the notebook up. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he finally opened it up with hands that trembled, and started to read. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The insistent ringing of her doorbell—along with the rhythmic pounding—finally woke her. Sam rolled over and looked at the clock. O500! Who one earth would be pounding on her door at 5 a.m.! And then a wild thought occurred to her. She jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe, hurrying to the door. Turning on the porch light, she peered out through the window, her heart almost stopping when she saw him.

"Colonel," her voice was breathless when she opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes traveled lazily up and down her body and she hugged her robe a bit closer. When he reached her face, she felt her insides start to melt at the sensual twinkle in his brown eyes. "We need to leave now if we want to beat the morning rush in Denver."

She stepped back, letting him in. "You do realize that if we leave now, we'll get to Duluth in the middle of the night?"

"So?" he drawled, brushing past her and heading down the hallway that led to the kitchen. "There's a Wal-Mart Super Store in Cloquet." She hurried after him, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused by his attitude. When he reached the kitchen, he turned on the light and started opening cupboards.

"Colonel, what are you doing?"

He paused, a coffee filter in his hand. "It's Jack," he said, his voice so low and intimate it sent a shiver up her spine. "I’m going to make coffee while you get dressed and pack." The earlier shiver returned full force and all she could do was nod and back out of the kitchen. If he kept looking at her like he just had, they'd never make it out of her house, much less to Minnesota. Rushing to her bedroom, she took a quick shower. She had just finished dressing when he materialized at the door to the bedroom, a cup of coffee in each hand. 

"Here," he handed one and then lounged against the door while she packed. "Take something warm," he offered. "It's just early spring up there."

She nodded, putting a couple more sweaters into her bag. Counting out a week's worth of underwear, she tried not to blush when she put them into the suitcase. Get a grip, she admonished herself, it’s not like he hasn't seen your underwear before. Right, she answered back dryly, but he hasn't seen it when you've been packing to go away with him. She glanced at him, he didn't look at all uncomfortable, watching her pack her intimate garments. She'd show him. Reaching into one drawer, she pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas and then a sheer, black nightie. Holding them out to show him, she asked archly, "Which one should I pack?"

Raw desire flared in his eyes and then he banked it down and smiled lazily at her. "What makes you think you'll need either of them?"

She did blush then. Damn the arrogance of the man, she decided, putting the flannel pajamas into her suitcase and stuffing the sheer nightie back into the drawer. His low chuckle raced up her spine. God, she was hopeless and if he kept this up, she'd be a melted, quivering pool of overly aroused female by the time they reached his cabin. Which was probably his intent. 

"There," she said, zipping shut her suitcase. "You can take that out to the truck while I get the rest of my things."

"Yes ma'am," he agreed readily, taking his coffee cup and her suitcase and leaving the room. She tidied up the bedroom then and packed her smaller travel bag. Heading back toward the kitchen, she took one last swallow of coffee and then shut off the coffee maker, cleaning up in there as well. A final sweep through the house found her in her small study, where she snagged her laptop and two books she wanted to read. 

She looked up from her desk and her breath caught painfully in her chest. He was standing by the front door and was obviously unaware that she was in the small study and could see him. The cheerful playfulness was gone and a weary, careworn look was on his face. Oh god, her heart ached for him. And she knew then that she would do anything to wipe that pain off his face—permanently. She retraced her steps back through to the kitchen and by the time she walked up the main hall, his smile was back in place.

"Ready?" 

"Fighting fit and ready to go...Jack." 

"Good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She glanced briefly at the man sleeping on the seat beside her. He was leaning against a pillow he'd stuffed between his head and the passenger window, mouth slightly open as he slept. He'd been true to his word; they'd made it through Denver before the rush hour traffic had gotten too heavy and into Fort Morgan in plenty of time for nice, leisurely breakfast. She'd had scrambled eggs and toast while he'd had the works—eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and pancakes. He'd coaxed a thermos of coffee out of the waitress and after filling up with gas they were back on the road again—all by 1000.

The sun was high enough in the sky now that it wasn't shining directly in the window, the traffic was blessedly light on this stretch of Interstate Seventy-six, so Sam put on the cruise control and settled back to enjoy the drive. The further they got away from the Springs and the base, the more relaxed she felt. And she sensed the same with Jack. He hadn't said anything, but it was fairly obvious that he had read her journal—which is what she had intended. She had been surprised though, when he'd shown up at her house. That was one scenario she hadn't envisioned. Talking, yes. Making love, hopefully. What was currently happening though, had rapidly exceeded even her wildest dreams.

She wondered how long he thought he could fool her with his sexy, funny, 'nothing's wrong with me' act? If she hadn't seen the momentary break in the façade earlier that morning, she might have been fooled into thinking everything was okay. Of course, that was what he wanted her to think. And there was really no point getting into any kind of serious discussion before they reached the cabin. So for right now, she'd just be content to be with him. She smiled and glanced fondly at him again, just the two of them, at his cabin. And then her smile widened. He had finally gotten her to go fishing with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, that was so good." Sam leaned back in the seat, ignoring Jack's laugh when she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans. "I haven't had a steak that good, well," she paused, "well, in I can't remember how long!" 

Jack started up the truck and headed out of the parking lot of Johnny's and back to Interstate Eighty. "Told you they have good steak here."

"Well, we'll have to stop on our way back," she commented. Reaching for the CD case, she started flipping through the disks. "Jack, do you have anything that isn't opera?" she teased. 

"Umm, not sure about that, Sam. Can't remember right off hand what CD's are in there."

His tone was light, but she had seen the sudden tightening of his jaw and the bleak look in his eyes, before he once more gave his full attention to the highway. Slipping The Magic Flute into the player, she adjusted the volume and then slid over on the bench seat and curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She rested her hand on his thigh, not to distract or arouse, but to comfort. 

"It won't be much longer," she said softly. If he were to ask her exactly 'what' wasn't going to be much longer, she wasn't sure what she would say. The drive to the cabin? The time when they could be together? Her tenure in the Air Force? His right hand briefly left the steering wheel and squeezed her hand gently, before he returned it to the steering wheel. The familiar overture played as they drove, early evening fading into twilight. She wanted to talk, but she didn't know what to say. Her thoughts drifted to the letters she'd written him and suddenly it was easier.

"I missed you so much," she said softly. "The whole time you were gone—but then you know that, don't you? You read my notebook."

"Yeah," he murmured. 

"I wanted you to. It seemed easier than actually telling you." She laughed quietly. "I never expected you to show up at my door this morning."

"Why?" he asked, and she could hear the genuine question in his voice. "I told you this is what I wanted, in the letters I wrote to you."

The sun had almost completely set and he had turned the truck's lights on, the pale green of the interior lights casting a soft glow over them. "I know," she admitted. "I just didn't think you'd actually do it." She tilted her head slightly, so she could see his face. "You didn't do anything about it the last time."

"It's complicated."

She sighed. "It's always going to be complicated."

"Maybe," he admitted. "And maybe I wasn't sure you'd go with me, until now."

She snuggled closer, rubbing her hand lazily on his knee. "Well, I’m glad you asked." A comfortable silence filled the cab of the truck then, the lilting strains of Mozart the only sound as they drove through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He let her drive from Des Moines to just south of Minneapolis, for which she was grateful. She could tell her was getting tired and she wondered at her wisdom at agreeing to this trip so soon after his ordeal and return to the SGC. Of course, she rationalized, he would have gone without her if she'd said no, so she was really looking out for his welfare. He'd put Wagner in the CD player and promptly fallen asleep. She really wasn't sure how he had managed to sleep through the Ride of the Valkyries, but he had. She had been strangely glad for the musical accompaniment while she drove, it had certainly kept her awake. They didn't stop at IHOP, she wasn't really hungry, her main desire now only to get horizontal in a bed—with or without Jack. 

Of course, they did stop in Cloquet, the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart surprisingly busy at 0200. But they managed to stock up on everything Jack thought they would need in less than thirty minutes and then they were back on the road. The closer they got to the cabin, the more relaxed he seemed to become. His hands weren't gripping the steering wheel as tightly and he was whistling along with Die Fledermaus. The further away they got from civilization, the darker the night and the brighter the stars. The only thing she could tell about the countryside was that it seemed heavily wooded and even more so when they turned off the main highway.

She sat up straighter in her seat, unexpected butterflies taking flight in her stomach the closer they got to their destination. Destination, not a bad word, close to destiny. Her destiny, his destiny—was she surrendering to or finally accepting her destiny? Why did she always start to over think? It had all seemed so simple when she'd been writing him. And safe, she realized. And maybe that was the reason, because right now she was so far from being safe it wasn't funny. 

A large hand unexpectedly wrapped around hers, tugging her closer and then placing her hand down to rest warmly on his thigh. If the simple gesture was meant to comfort her, then it had worked, and she was only mildly surprised that he had sensed her mood. She once more found herself nestling in close to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"We're almost there," he murmured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam struggled out from under Jack's restraining arm and the tangle of bedclothes and staggered to the bathroom. At least she hoped it was the bathroom. She'd been half-asleep when they'd finally arrived in the early hours of the morning, somehow finding the energy to help Jack unload the truck. Once the groceries were safely in the kitchen, she'd left Jack to put them away and she went in search of the bedrooms. Dumping her suitcase on the floor of the largest one, she'd pulled out her pajamas and guessed correctly when she'd opened a door and found the bathroom. 

When she had finished washing up, she'd made a beeline for the bed, crawling in and sighing in pleasure at finally being horizontal. It hadn't been long before she'd heard him moving about the room, lights going out and then the bed shifting as he crawled in with her. He pulled her back against him, spooning against her back and she'd almost immediately fallen asleep, not exactly how she had imagined she'd spend her first night in Jack O'Neill's bed. But now, her bladder was demanding her attention and she would be damned if she'd kiss him with morning mouth.

Using the facilities, she washed her hands and splashed water on her face. Her toothbrush was still in her bag, so she opened the tiny medicine cabinet and—thankfully—found some toothpaste and an ancient toothbrush. Foregoing the toothbrush, she squeezed some of the minty gel onto her finger and scrubbed her teeth, rinsing her mouth. At least she'd have fresher breath. She took a final look in the mirror, combing her fingers through her hair. She didn't look that well rested, she decided. Too pale and the dark circles under her eyes were on their way to becoming permanent fixtures. Unexpectedly nervous, she took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

He wasn't in the bed. Stepping further into the room, she saw he wasn't there at all. Scrounging through her suitcase for her slippers and robe, she put them on and then ventured down the hallway. She retraced her footsteps from earlier that morning and walked down the hallway. The light was shining from the kitchen, brightening the dim house. Even though it was mid-morning, it was cloudy and gray outside, somehow matching her sinking mood. 

"Hey," she said, standing in the doorway.

"Hey." He turned around, coffee mug in his hand and smiled at her. She wished she was wearing something sexier than her faded pink chenille robe and flannel pajamas. He looked unbelievably handsome, hair mussed with a day's growth of stubble, dressed in just a T-shirt and a faded pair of blue sweat pants—and bare feet. 

"I thought you'd still be in bed."

"Hungry," he said, setting down the mug and opening the refrigerator.

"Ah." She inched a little further into the room and watched as he assembled what looked to be the makings of breakfast on the counter—eggs, bread, butter....

She took a deep breath and ventured up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and nipping at his earlobe. Sliding her hands beneath his T-shirt and laying them flat against his firm belly, she murmured, "I thought you'd be hungry for something else this morning?"

"Waffles? Pancakes?"

She grinned and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "No," she paused, gently raking the nails of one hand across his taut abdomen, "something a bit more exotic." He shivered slightly, which encouraged her.

He turned then, surprising her. Strong hands gripped her waist and she gasped when he turned, lifting her up to sit on the counter. She grabbed his shoulders for balance and let him nudge her legs apart, so he could stand between them. His brown eyes were blazing with desire but he merely smiled blandly at her and drawled, "I'm a pretty simple kind of guy." 

"Are you now?" she commented breathlessly. It was getting more difficult, keeping up the teasing when his hands were loosening the tie on her robe and sliding beneath the soft cotton of her pajama top, fingers feathering lightly along her spine.

"Yeah, it doesn't take much to make me happy." He leaned closer, nuzzling her neck. 

His off-hand comment struck a chord deep within her and she evaded his seeking lips, grasping his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her. "What does it take, Jack? To make you happy?" She had never asked a more serious question in her entire life, her carefree tone was gone and her voice vibrated with urgency.

His eyes darkened, filling with a seriousness that she knew matched her own. "Only one thing..." he moved closer and she slid her hands around his neck, her eyes closing when his lips brushed against hers, "...you."

The kiss was sweet and so tender, it brought tears to her eyes. They trailed down her cheeks, mingling with their lips. "Why are you crying?" he murmured.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked confused. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt? After you were returned from the Tok'ra—and Ba'al?"

He stepped back, his hands sliding from her body, his expression shutting down. She slid down off the counter.

"It's complicated," he finally said, scrubbing his hand over his face.

"You keep saying that! How's it going to get any less complicated if we keep hiding from it?"

He sat down at the small kitchen table, slumping in the chair. A gust of wind blew rain against the window, the storm outside gaining intensity. He looked tired and every bit his age and her heart went out to him. He rubbed his hand over his face again. "I wanted to tell you, Sam. Fully intended telling you." He looked at her then, his eyes bleak. "The only thing that kept me going were my dreams about you." He snorted softly. "But you know that."

"I read it, Jack. There's a difference."

His look was skeptical, but he kept talking. "But once I was back home...well, you know how it was. Everything went back to normal. You didn't seem anymore interested or concerned than usual and the whole time I was captured began to take on a surreal quality."

"I cared," she protested.

"Not enough to take a chance," he countered.

"I was scared," she finally admitted, even though she wasn't sure when this had become about her.

He looked at her, his dark eyes piercing into her very soul. "So what makes it different this time?'

"I finally know what I want."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Her hands played restlessly with the ties of her robe. Why was it so hard to tell him face to face? An unbidden memory flashed through her mind, one that had seemed engraved there not too long ago. Of him in stasis, eyes open but unseeing, inaccessible behind a thick layer of ice. Each moment together was a gift to be treasured and here she was balking at revealing herself to him. Vulnerability was not something she liked to reveal to anyone...but if she trusted him, she needed to trust he wouldn't betray her.

She crossed the few steps it took her to reach him. The floor was cold and hard on her knees as she knelt by his chair, the slight discomfort mild compared to the sudden tension filling her. His expression softened when she took hold of one of his care-worn hands with both of hers. "I want a life with you. I want everything—forever. And I will do whatever it takes to make it happen, Jack. I'll resign, I'll transfer to another team, I'll even stay with the team and be your lover, anything to make this work."

"I'll do whatever you want, Sam. If we can't be together, then you might as well put me back in that ice chamber."

She brought his hand to her face, cradling it against her cheek and kissing his palm. "Then I guess we'll be together."

"Is this where we get to the 'for better or for worse' part?" His fingers curled around her neck, ruffling the hair on her nape.

She smiled faintly, his caressing fingers sending delicate shivers down her spine. "I think we've already been there."

"Been there, done that?" 

"Been there, haven't done near enough yet," she corrected.

His smile was slow and sexy. "Oh, I think I can safely say you 'ain't seen nothing yet'." 

"Is that a fact?" She relaxed somewhat with the return of his teasing tone, leaning against his thigh.

"An absolute fact," he murmured, the hand at her nape tightening and urging her closer. She let her eyes flutter shut and lifted her face to him. His lips were cool, brushing lightly against hers, leaving her aching for more. She sensed him pulling away and she blindly followed, only to gasp softly when hard hands grabbed her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. 

"What?" she gasped, clutching at his arms.

His eyes were alight with tender affection. "The kitchen isn't exactly the place I had in mind for any of this."

She looped her arms around his neck and grinned at him, feeling remarkably light-hearted. "You've thought about this?"

"Constantly."

She laughed, relief and pure undiluted love flowing through her. 

"Oh, like you haven't?" he rumbled, his eyes narrowed, his large hands flexing restlessly at her waist.

"Maybe," she teased, raking her nails delicately along his nape and pressing her hips more firmly against his.

His eyes darkened and his smile changed from one of tender amusement to aroused, possessive male. She felt a corresponding frisson of desire and trepidation, sensing that he would demand her total surrender—not only her body and heart, but her soul as well. The part of her that she had never shared with another man. He wouldn't plead with her or ask nicely, he'd demand it as his right. Which maybe it was. He always expected miracles from her and it shook her to her very soul that she might be his miracle. She kissed him, a too brief meeting of their lips, her tongue just tasting him before she pulled back, easing out of his embrace. 

"Come with me." Taking his hand, she turned and pulled him behind her, down the hallway to his bedroom, her open robe fluttering around their legs as she walked. When they reached the still dark room, she turned and reached for him, but he brushed past her, skirting around the bed that seemed to dominate the small room and opening the curtains. Gray sunlight filtered into the room and he opened the window slighlty, letting the sounds and smells of the early spring rain into the room.

He slowly walked back to her and she waited in breathless anticipation. His large hands gripping the ends of her robe, his eyes dark and intense. "Just so we're clear on this. There's no going back."

She nodded, her insides melting at the promise in his deep, brown eyes. "No going back," she whispered. He pushed the robe off her shoulders and she let it slide down her body and off her arms. 

He rested a hand against her throat, fingers splayed and she wondered if he could feel her pulse racing. "You're mine." 

She shivered, both aroused and irritated with his possessive statement. If he thought that announcement was going to scare her off, he didn't know her as well as he thought. Or maybe he did. But she wasn't going to fight him on this, because it was true and she was beyond denying him. "Yes," she whispered. 

With her acquiescence came a freedom that was at once terrifying and exhilarating.  
It was past time that she acknowledged the bonds of mutual respect, love and desire that inextricably bound them together. That deep, primitive light flared in his eyes and this time, she felt an answering fire of her own. Expecting an onslaught of overwhelming passion when their lips met again, she was disarmed by the tender, almost reverential touch of his lips against hers—which only left her aching for more. Her hands came up and framed his face, urging him closer, opening her mouth and enticing him with soft touches of her tongue. 

His arms closed around her and she leaned against him, letting him seduce her with long, slow kisses. She whimpered softly, the sound muffled by his mouth, when his tongue stroked deep, his exploration of her mouth thorough and intentional, arousing her more than any other man's wild, frenzied kisses ever had. It was getting harder and harder to stand and Sam soon found herself clinging to him and resting more of her weight against him as he continued the deliberate kisses. Her knees did buckle then, and she sagged against him, when the hand resting at the small of her back pressed tighter and he rotated his hips against hers, the feel of his burgeoning erection a blatant indication of things to come.

"Jack," she gasped, burying her face against his throat when he eventually released her lips. Somehow she found the strength to support herself when his hands tugged insistently at her pajama top and she had to release her hold on him so he could pull it off. The cool air washed over her skin, an unexpectedly erotic contrast to the heat from his hands and mouth. Goose bumps chased along her skin when his warm hands caressed her firm belly, before deftly loosening the tie of her pajama bottoms. She gave a small shimmy and the garment dropped off her hips, pooling at her ankles and leaving her naked in his arms.

He pulled her back into his arms and she melted against him, kissing him hungrily. Needing to feel his skin against her instead of the soft cotton of his clothing, she tugged at his T-shirt. She moaned a soft protest when he pulled out of her arms, but then his hands went to her waist, urging her to the bed. Following his unspoken command, she lay back on the bed, shifting restlessly as she watched him strip off his T-shirt, his sweatpants quickly joining the tangled pile of clothing on the floor.

Her hungry gaze traveled over his body when he paused for a long moment. He was still tan and fit, the time in stasis evidently preserving him perfectly. There was no evidence anywhere that she could see of the torture meted out by Ba'al, the only indication that anything had happened to him was the small, bruised and hairless patch of skin and healing incision in his right groin. Which obviously wasn't bothering him too much, if his impressive erection was anything to go by. 

"Jack," she murmured huskily, holding her arms out to him. He lay down on the bed next to her, propping himself upon his side over her. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek, the rough stubble of his unshaven face rubbing pleasantly beneath her fingers. "Is this all a dream?" she whispered, searching his dark eyes for an answer. "I've wanted this for so long and I never thought it could happen." Her hand slid to his nape, urging him closer.

"This isn't any dream, Sam," he whispered, lowering his head, his lips just brushing hers. "Let me show you just how real this is."

Gone was the gentle lover of only moments ago, his kisses were now insistent and demanding. She answered his need with an equally ravenous one of her own, her hands stroking through his hair, his shoulders, his back, anywhere she could reach. His muscles rippled beneath her caresses, his skin blessedly warm under her hands. So caught up in the freedom of finally being able to touch him and express her love and desire this way, she was caught unawares when his mouth latched onto one of her breasts, pulling her nipple deep into his hot mouth. 

She groaned raggedly, the sensations were incredible as he sucked and teased the sensitive tip with his tongue. Her hands clutched at his hair now, holding him fast to her breast. She was breathing raggedly when he finally released her turgid nipple with a gentle nip, before nuzzling across her chest and capturing her other nipple. She writhed slowly against him, the ache inside her steadily increasing with each passing moment and caress.

When he shifted further down her body, planting wet kisses along her trembling belly, she tugged impotently at his shoulders, hooking a slim leg around him and trying to pull him into the cradle of her thighs. The hollow ache low in her belly needing only one thing—him, full and throbbing with life, inside her. 

"Jack, please." She didn't care that she was pleading with him, that he had managed to break through her walls until all she could do was cry and beg him to fill the emptiness and ease the pain. Sam almost sobbed with relief when he tugged at her legs, and she bent her knees deeply, letting them fall open. His hands gently pushed her legs even wider, gliding up her inner thighs in a smooth caress, rough fingers just brushing against the soft curls now revealed. God, she knew she was wet and more than ready for him; she quivered in breathless anticipation of his hard body filling hers. 

And then she cried out in shocked pleasure when instead of taking her, his mouth fastened on her tender flesh. His clever fingers stroking and caressing even as his lips and tongue teased and tormented her, the ache inside her rapidly transforming into a pleasure she wasn't sure she would survive. One blunt finger probed and then stroked deeply into her and she groaned, her hips jerking against him.

"Easy," he murmured, his arm suddenly heavy on her abdomen. Letting out a ragged moan, she forced herself to relax, but couldn't still the subtle movement of her pelvis as he continued to work his magic. And even though she was expecting it, waiting desperately for it, when the combined efforts of his mouth and hands pushed her over the edge it caught her unawares. One moment she was teetering on the brink, sobbing his name with each breath as she pleaded with him and the next crying out his name when the pleasure building inside her crested in a wave of pure ecstasy. 

It went on forever, his hands and his mouth pushing her past anything she had ever experienced. Pleasure flowing through her in great waves of rapture until she lay limp beneath his now soothing and gentle touch. She somehow managed to summon the energy to open her eyes when she felt him crawl up her body, cradling her face between his large hands. She felt an overwhelming rush of love flow through her when he gently kissed her forehead.

"How was that for reality?" His voice was low and teasing, but she knew him too well and could see the uncertainty that he couldn't quite hide lurking in his eyes.

Her lips curved in a tender smile and she looped her arms around his neck. "If it had been anymore real, I don't think I would have survived."

He grinned down at her and thrust his hips against hers, somehow managing to drag a low groan out of her. She shifted subtly against him, wrapping her legs loosely around his hips and watched in amazement as his eyes darkened even more, his grin now replaced with a tight smile of barely restrained desire. Feeling a resurgence of her earlier feminine power, she moved more deliberately, rubbing against him and eliciting a low moan from him. "We still haven't done near enough yet," she murmured, delighting in his response.

"God, no," he muttered, "not near enough."

 

Before she fully realized what he intended, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She pushed herself to a sitting position, straddling his hips. He looked up at her, his face tight with need, his hands restlessly stroking her thighs. She didn't know where to start, there was so much she wanted to explore, to experience with him. But right now, he had a more pressing need and there would be plenty of time for more leisurely lovemaking. That didn't mean that she wasn't going to enjoy herself though.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward and kissed him, her hands stroking and caressing his chest. She stopped, her hand on his chest, when she realized she could feel his heartbeat. The tears that never seemed far away once more filled her eyes and she pressed her face to his breast, focussing on the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Her tears trickled down onto his chest and she pressed a soft kiss over his heart.

"Hey," he rumbled over her head, one of his hands brushing gently through her hair. She raised her head and looked at him. "No more tears," he admonished.

"Can't help it," she whispered. "You should be dead...and yet you're here—we're here." And then before she could even think about the consequences of actually speaking the words, they spilled out of her mouth. "I love you."

His eyes flashed with raw desire. "I know," he murmured roughly. "I've always known." She hadn't really believed him, when he'd said the same thing on the Tel'tac, before that final battle with Anubis. But this time she did. And everything fell into place; whatever had been askew in her universe suddenly righted itself. Oh, there were still some gaps, but when she was with him, they didn't seem so big.

Pushing herself up, she once more knelt over his hips. His hands moved in roving caresses over her skin, as if he had to continually touch her—or distract her, she wasn't sure. But she had only one goal in mind right now. Lightly at first, and then with increasing pressure, she stroked his straining erection. He was hot and throbbing with life in her hand and she trembled with the need to have him inside her. The strength and power of his desire was obvious and she was humbled that she could draw this response from him.

"Sam." 

His voice, low and needy, penetrated the haze of desire surrounding her and she finally moved. His hands went to her waist, steadying her, as she guided him through her slick folds. She shivered when the broad head of his penis broached her tender opening and he groaned at that first, tentative touch; his hands contracting almost painfully at her waist.  
Keeping her eyes locked with his, she slowly lowered herself onto his rigid length. Oh god, it was incredible and so intimate. There was something so much more than just the physical connection happening between them. As fantastic as taking him into her body was, it was seeing his eyes and the expression on his face as it happened that was beyond anything she had ever experienced. 

And she knew. It didn’t come to her in a blinding flash or a bolt of lightning striking from the heavens. It wasn't one specific moment, it was all of them, coalescing into this moment when she knew the truth. He was the one she would sacrifice it all for. On some level she had realized it long ago, when she trusted her life to him on an almost daily basis. And even when she had tried to deny her love, she had failed. Because it had always been him—and always would be.

"I love you," she gasped, sinking down on him and taking him fully into her body. His only response was a ragged moan that might have been her name. She started moving, slowly rocking her hips against him, stroking him with the rhythmic movement. The low sounds of pleasure rumbling from deep in his chest telling her that he enjoyed the tug and pull of her muscles around him as much as she liked the friction of him stretching and filling her while she moved. The strong hands at her waist subtly guided her and she leaned more heavily onto him, the slight change in position re-igniting the embers of desire still smoldering inside her.

Sam gasped his name when he started thrusting his pelvis against her and she moved easily with him, rising and falling in a steady tempo punctuated with the low moans and soft cries of their accelerating pleasure. He suddenly thrust hard, gasping her name and she could feel it starting for him. Grinding her pelvis against him, she squeezed him tightly, contracting her internal muscles around him. She watched in wonder as the waves of pleasure rolled through him, the ecstasy filling his face even as she felt him filling her with his seed. Unexpected pleasure rolled through her on a gentle wave and she crested with him, collapsing against his chest even as he still shuddered beneath her.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there, random shudders still racing through their bodies, his hands stroking soothingly up and down her back. Long enough that she started to feel the chill from the open window, the sound of the rain once more audible above the sounds of their breathing. He must've felt the cool air too; he shifted beneath her and she reluctantly slid off him, curling up at his side while he tugged the bedclothes over them.  
She felt relaxed and wonderfully content, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek and the fingers lightly stroking through her hair.

"I'm not going to go back."

Sam sat up abruptly, her heart racing, and looked down at him. He couldn't have said what she thought. "What?"

Jack tugged on her arm, and she let him pull her back down beside him. He loomed over her then, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'm not going back. I'm going to retire."

"But—" His finger on her lips stilled her protest.

"I've given the better part of my life to the Air Force and my country, not to mention actually giving my life." His lips curved in a half smile. "The SGC is changing, it's time for me to change too."

"I would never ask you to retire." 

"I know. This way you don't have to ask. I'm giving it to you—to us."

"Jack, are you sure?" She was elated and scared to death. It couldn't be this easy—it had never been this easy for her—for them—ever.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life." 

She searched his eyes, looking for doubt, for anything that might indicate he didn't totally mean and believe what he had just said. There was only the fire of deep conviction blazing in his dark, brown eyes. 

He moved to sit beside her then, and she scooted up on the bed on as well, propping herself up on the pillows. "You read my letters." He looked down at her. It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded anyway. 

He looked away again, staring out the window at the rain. "You know what I went through—and what kept me sane." She nodded again, even though he didn't look at her that time. "I don't remember much about what happened after Anubis started his attack and I accessed that...chair thing. But, I think I dreamt, while I was in stasis."

"About what?" she murmured, when he paused.

He turned towards her then, leaning over her and cupping her cheek with a gentle hand. "Mostly you," he confessed, his eyes softening in tender affection. "Sometimes Charlie, sometimes my parents. And for some weird reason, I have this really vivid memory of Apophis."

She chuckled and he grinned, before his eyes once more turned serious. "But the one, overwhelming memory I have was that I had to make it home to you. I knew if I didn't get into the stasis chamber, I would die. And I knew you—and the rest of the team—wouldn't stop until you figured out how to cure me."

"Which we did."

"And I made a vow to myself, on the Tel'tac, remember? When you wanted to talk and I cut you off?" 

She nodded again, that memory never far from her mind. 

"I vowed that when I got back, we would talk and I would do whatever it took to convince you that I love you." He quirked an eyebrow. "Did it work?"

Her heart had started racing again. His off-hand comment about love was so him that she simultaneously wanted to laugh and cry. "I'm here with you, aren't I?" 

"So you are," he muttered, his eyes narrowing with desire. He leaned towards her and she clutched at the back of his neck, pulling herself up to meet him, their lips joining in a sweet and tender kiss that rapidly escalated out of control. Both of them were gasping for air when Jack finally dragged his mouth from hers, flopping down next to her. "God, I'm too old for this."

She laughed, joy and relief filling her. Sitting up, she stretched and started looking around for her discarded pajamas. Spying them on the floor by the bed, she stood up and pulled them on. "Well, I did interrupt your breakfast earlier," she teased, and then tossed him his T-shirt. "Come on, I'm sure you promised me pancakes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After three days of rain, the sun had finally appeared and the clouds eventually drifted away, leaving an almost summer day in their wake. Sam had put on the only pair of shorts and sleeveless blouse she'd brought and was currently sitting in a deck chair on the dock, enjoying the afternoon sun. 

"Damn it."

Looking over her book toward her lover, she stifled a grin. He had spent the previous afternoon diligently untangling and rewinding his 'favorite' reel. Which once more appeared to be hopelessly tangled, line flying in all different directions. "Having problems, Jack?" 

He glared at her, at least she assumed he was glaring, given she couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses. "I will fish today," he announced. She watched with tender affection when he tossed the tangled reel into his tackle box and picked up another one. The amount of equipment required for fishing totally amazed her—not to mention the hundreds of lures, bait, etc. He had spent the better part of one rainy afternoon explaining the intricacies and differences between jigs, wood lures, crank baits, soft baits, jerk baits and spinners until she thought she was going to go crazy. Wormhole physics was nothing compared to the complexities of bass fishing.

Looking back up from her book a few minutes later, she saw that he had finally achieved his goal and was lounging on his special 'fishing' chair, rod and reel resting in its holder on the chair—she still didn't get that concept, wasn't fishing actually about holding the rod? And, of course, a cold long neck in his hand. He seemed to be suitably entertained, so she closed her book up and pulled out her blue notebook and a pen. Pulling her visor a little bit lower over her eyes, she started writing.

Something cold was pressed against her neck and she shrieked, almost overturning herself and her chair off the dock. 

"Jeez, Carter! I thought you might like a beer." Straightening her visor, she squinted up at Jack. He grinned at her, holding a dripping bottle toward her. 

"Thanks," she said, taking the cold beer from him. 

He squatted down next to her chair, slipping his sunglasses off. "Whatcha' doing?"

"Ah," she stuffed her notebook into her bag. "Just doing some writing."

"Really?" He immediately perked up. "Let me see." He reached over and grabbed her bag, and even though she tried to pull it out of his hands, he managed to wrestle it from her, hampered as she was by the beer bottle in her hand. He grinned in triumph when he pulled the notebook out, dropping the bag at his feet. He flipped it open and started reading. His eyes were tender when he looked at her. "More letters, Sam?" he asked, his voice curious now.

Sam could feel a blush starting on her already overheated skin and for some reason felt incredibly gauche. She'd been sleeping with him for three days, sharing her body and other intimate secrets during the whole time they'd been together. For crying out loud, he'd read the other letters she'd written to him. But she hadn't been with him....

"Jack? I..." He looked up at the sound of her voice and she could see understanding fill his eyes.

"You don't want me to read this?"

Did she want him to read what had basically become her journal? She'd started writing—to him—to help her deal with the conflicting emotions and the huge hole left in her life when he'd been put into stasis. And after he'd been recovered, she discovered that she liked, and almost needed, the few minutes spent every day recording her thoughts and feelings on the day. Over the last few days she'd shared more with him than she'd shared with any previous lover and now she was going to balk at sharing her journal?

"No," she nodded toward the notebook. "You can read it."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, and then settled down on the dock next to her deck chair, started to read. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

03 May

Well, it's done. I don't think I've ever been more nervous in my entire life than when I rang his doorbell. Did I just take the chicken shit way out? By giving him the notebooks and letting him decide whether to read mine or not? If he wants to ignore them, we can, and we go right back to where we were before all of this started. Which definitely is the chicken shit way out. But...it's been so long since he wrote those letters, and so much has happened, I'm not even sure how he really feels anymore. 

Oh sure, he says, "I know" when I tried to tell him on the Tel'tac before the battle with Anubis. But what does that really mean? I know what you're going to say? I know how you feel? I know you care about me more than you should? I know you love me but that doesn't change anything? I know we're all about to die? 

Well, I guess all I can do is wait. I'll give him twenty-four hours.

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05 May 

It took less than twenty-four hours, ten to be exact and he was on my doorstep, whisking me off to his cabin. The trip up here was pretty much like he'd described. He did leave out one thing though—his selection of CD's is a bit lacking. We are definitely going to stop at the Wal-Mart in Cloquet on the way home and get something that isn't opera.

I was so exhausted by the time we got here; I'm not sure if it was because of the drive or just the whole emotional thing going on. We talked a bit, but trying to have a serious conversation while traveling eighty miles per hour along the interstate is not exactly the easiest thing to do. Suffice it to say, once we arrived, I barely helped him unload the car before I crashed in the nearest bedroom. Well, I did pick the biggest one...hoping that it would be his and that he would join me. Which he did and I think I must have fallen asleep immediately—all nice and cozy in his arms.

When I woke, my bladder was full and he was still asleep, so I just went to the bathroom really fast, but when I got back he was gone! I found him in the kitchen though, getting ready to make breakfast. I managed to convince him that there were other more important things requiring his attention. So, pretty much between talking and making love, I think we've covered the basics. The making love was pretty phenomenal; of course it helps when you're finally with the man you were always meant to be with. And can he do magical things with those hands. 

He's going to retire. Says he's had enough and I guess I don't blame him. I've had enough and hell, I'm even tempted to retire myself, let some other people figure out how to make things work for awhile. Well, maybe not retire, but I think we're both due for an extended leave. I can go back to the SGC once the reorganization is finished and the dust has settled. And, I can't really see him retiring completely, I'm sure there will be some consultation work or something. He is Thor's favorite human, after all.

And I think he told me that he loves me. At least, he said he would do whatever it takes to convince me that he loves me. He's been pretty convincing so far...but there's still part of me that can't believe it could be this easy. I'm not sure that I can be like him and say I've always known. I think I've always hoped, especially after everything I've done—or haven't done. But that's all in the past and though I'd never say it to him, because it's a cliché and I do know how he hates those, it can't be changed. We can just make the most of the present.

He's calling from the kitchen; the steaks must be ready.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

06 May

It's raining again. Which I guess is okay. Jack keeps a fire going in the fireplace and doesn't seem too bored. He has massive amounts of fishing equipment—tackle, I'm told is the correct term. He's been sorting lures for the past hour. I'm almost to the point of dragging my laptop out and seeing what kind of dial-up connection I can get here. But I think I'll wait until I'm really bored. Besides, I do have another cure for boredom sitting in the same room with me. There is certainly nothing wrong with his, er, vitality. At least in bed. He still sleeps a lot. We've been taking two walks a day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon...in the rain. But he still seems to need a lot of sleep. I'm almost tempted to call Brightman, but then I'd have some explaining to do, so I'd rather not. However, his appetite is good and he looks better every day. 

We talked a little more this morning. Just stuff you start to share with someone that you love. Talked about our parents, I told him about Mom and that wretched summer after she died. He talked some about Charlie and Sara. He surprised the hell out of me by asking if I wanted kids. I didn't know what to say, so I told him the truth—that yeah, I think I'd like to have kids. I think I'd be a good mom and the only kids I want to have are his. Well, I didn't tell him that last part. But, he looked thoughtful and actually said that having kids was a good thing. I’m not going to get my hopes up or anything, because I won't have kids without a husband and we’re nowhere close to having that conversation. But it's nice to know. 

And god yes, I want to get married, I want to bind him to me with everything that I can. But I can be patient. We've made it this far and I don't want to sound weak, or pathetic or stupidly female, but I'll pretty much take whatever he can give me. Sometimes I'm not sure I deserve any of this. I've hurt two good men because of my selfishness and for whatever reason, I've been given an opportunity to make it right with Jack. Whatever he wants, for however long he wants. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

07 May

More rain. Hmm...I see a pattern here. We just stay in bed most of the morning. He made me breakfast in bed this morning, which was too sweet. Coffee, toast, scrambled eggs and canadian bacon. I've been eating way too much, but when I complain, Jack says we'll just have to burn some more calories. And I know exactly what kind of activity he has in mind when he says that! It's almost like being on a honeymoon—or at least what I imagine a honeymoon must be like. If Jack and I do get married, I think I'll lobby for our honeymoon to be on that beach in Mexico. 

He's off to the small town about twenty minutes away. Said he wanted to get some 'fresh bait', whatever that means. I haven't had the heart to tell him that I won't fish with worms. Lures, yes, but worms—no way. I asked him to pick up some fresh fruit and a newspaper, too. There's a TV here, but other than watching the rather fuzzy local news from the Duluth station; we haven't had it on. 

I finally asked him about the letters he wrote, if it helped. It was after we made love this morning. I wasn't sure he was going to answer me at first. There are still parts of him that will always be buried deep inside, I imagine. Things he won't ever share with me. But this, I was as much a part of this as he was. He said it did help, at least with the nightmares. He didn't say anything more about those. And after reading what Ba'al did to him, I can imagine what his nightmares were about. I asked him again why he didn't say anything to me. He just shrugged and said he finished them about the time of the Prometheus hijacking. So I can understand him getting a bit distracted. 

He asked me about my first boyfriend. I hadn't thought about Gary in years. High school seems so long ago now. Which somehow led to Jonas and finally to Pete. I guess it's only fair that he know. I was just reaching for something I thought I wanted, because it sure seemed like I'd never have what I really wanted. Does that sound as stupid as I think it does? I guess it doesn’t matter now. Oh god, I'm going to get all sappy. I'm too logical and sensible for that kind of stuff. But when I'm with Jack, I don't have to be logical and sensible. I can be Sam—because he's Jack. Okay, I am going way overboard now. Maybe it's time to get out the laptop and start working some more on the refinements in the modified TER. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam looked out over the lake, there were some geese floating on the gently moving water, stopping for a brief respite on their way back north. There might have been some loons too, she thought she'd heard some earlier, but she'd have to ask Jack for sure. She removed the visor and the light breeze that was blowing ruffled her hair, but it was warm where they sat in the sun. She glanced down at Jack, who was still bent over the notebook reading. He appeared to be almost finished.... 

Jack closed the notebook and looked up, handing it back to her. "So, what were you going to write today?"

Taking it from him, she searched his face, but she couldn't read his expression; his eyes were still hidden behind his sunglasses. She smiled cautiously, feeling unexpectedly self-conscious. "Oh, probably that the sun is shining," she said lightly.

"Nothing about the phenomenal sex this morning?" He finally took his sunglasses off and she relaxed somewhat when she saw the teasing look in his eyes.

She chuckled. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll write about that big fish you're going to catch."

He got to his feet in one lithe movement and suddenly she was looking up at him. He held out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her out of the chair, the notebook falling to the deck. "Or maybe you'll write about the phenomenal sex this afternoon?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned and pulled her along behind him, stopping to scoop up the blanket that she'd brought outside just in case of...something. "There's going to be phenomenal sex this afternoon?" she teased.

"Oh, yes!" He looked back at her and leered as he stepped off the dock. 

She laughed and followed along behind him, clinging to his hand. "I'm not sure I believe you. You're biased."

He stopped a few yards from the dock, in an area full of lush grass and released her hand, spreading the blanket out on the grass. He turned back to her then, taking both her hands in his, and she found herself looking right into his eyes. They were twinkling with affection and something she could only classify as indulgence. "Damn straight...and you know why?"

Sam didn't say anything, more doubt and confusion filling her; she didn't know what to make of him in this current mood.

"Because I love you."

Her heart started racing, because even though he had told her that he wanted to prove his love to her, he had yet to actually say it to her. She felt incredibly awkward and almost shy, but she asked anyway, seeking the reassurance because it just didn't seem possible. "You love me?"

"Hell, yes!"

"But...what about--"

He placed a finger over her lips and then spoke quietly and with a conviction she couldn't ignore, pausing for emphasis between each word. "I love you. It's that simple"

"Is it really?" Her voice was wistful and more than anything in their incredibly complex world, she wanted to believe it could be simple. 

"It really is," he told her, sitting on the blanket and pulling her down beside him. 

Sam knelt next to him and tried to ignore the hands busy unbuttoning her blouse, the fingers brushing against her skin already starting to send the first flickers of arousal through her. She put her hands over his before he could distract her completely and he stopped, raising an eyebrow. "But Jack, there's so much—" 

He kissed her, which succeeded in stopping her for the moment, the touch of lips driving all coherent thought from her brain. When he finally released her mouth, she felt weak and rested back on her knees. His lips curved into a tender smile and he stroked a stray strand of hair off her cheek, his hand resting warmly at her nape. "Are there certain things that you accept to be immutable? The law of gravity? What goes up must come down? For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction?" 

She nodded and wondered where on earth he was going with a physics analogy. 

"Which," he said, his voice thoughtful, "might actually explain a lot of what has happened with us." She smiled and shivered when he stroked his thumb over her full lips, still wet from his kiss. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say, Sam, is that my love is something you're going to have to accept as simply existing. It's not something you can deduce or infer, you don't have to do anything to deserve it, earn it or keep it. You just have to recognize it." He framed her face with both his hands then. "It's yours, it always has been."

Oh god, she felt the tears starting again and she brushed at her eyes. "Jack, I—" Sam choked back a sob. She was pathetic, she could explain the most detailed calculations without batting an eye or stumbling over a word, but was somehow unable to put into words how she felt right now, Jack's unconditional love more than she ever expected or felt she even deserved.

"Shh..." he murmured softly, pulling her into his arms and she sprawled across his lap, clinging to him and burying her face in his throat. His arms were strong around her as he gently rocked her, the sun shining warmly down on them and the breeze rustling through the birch and pine around the cabin. As her soft sobs faded, the sound of the waves that lapped against the rocky beach mixed with the ragged sound of her breathing and the gentle murmurs meant to soothe and comfort. 

When she finally felt somewhat composed, Sam pulled back enough to look at him. She clung to him when he jostled her around a bit, fumbling in his pocket for his handkerchief and pressing it into her hand. She wiped her eyes and gave him a wet smile. "Sorry," she mumbled. And then she looked right at him, searching for understanding...and forgiveness? "I know I don't deserve any of this—"

Jack opened his mouth and she knew he was going to protest, but she placed her fingers over his lips. "Don't, Jack." She took a deep breath. "Just know that I love you with every fiber of my being—and that will never change."

His hand closed over hers and he kissed her palm. "I know," he murmured. 

She gave him a trembling smile, those two simple words—the same ones he'd spoken on the Tel'tac so long ago and now she knew exactly what he meant. 

"But...just in case words aren't enough, I'll show you." He released her hand and she rested hers on his shoulder, while his slid to her nape, his fingers threading through her short hair.

"Will you now?" she asked, her confidence returning. Languid desire laced with eager anticipation replaced the uncertainty and apprehension that had previously filled her.

Jack merely smiled, this time it was the one that always turned her insides into mush and he pulled her back into his arms, kissing her hungrily. Her mouth opened immediately to his demand, her hands already tugging at his clothing. She wanted to protest when he stopped kissing her, but then he stripped off her blouse and she eagerly helped him, their hands and arms tangling as they both fumbled with her bra. Finally releasing the catch, he tossed it aside and she had his shirt off next, quickly followed by his T-shirt. He pushed her down onto the blanket, lust and love blazing in his dark brown eyes.

She had never felt particularly sexy, but when Jack looked at her like she was the most ravishing creature on earth, she felt sexy. His hands reached out to touch her and she arched into his touch, his hands running lightly along her collarbone before gliding down her breasts. If she was disappointed that he didn't linger at her breasts, it didn't last for long. She sucked in a sharp breath when his hands grazed along her belly and his hands fastened on the waist band of her shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping, his fingers warm against her cool flesh. Lifting her hips when he tugged, she let him pull her shorts and panties off. He had her tennis shoes off next and then she lay naked before him.

Sam watched Jack eagerly as he kicked off his shoes, and then struggled out of his shorts and boxers, before kneeling between her spread legs. She could feel it starting already, the warmth spreading low in her belly, the moisture starting to flow, her body already making itself ready for him. She held out her arms and moaned in relief when he finally covered her with his hard body, his lips immediately fastening on hers. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she held him tightly and kissed him ravenously. His kisses were wonderful and certainly addictive, but she wanted more. Not sure what his intentions were, but determined to make hers perfectly clear, Sam slid one slim hand between their bodies, and grasped his erection. He was full and hard, pulsing with power. She squeezed gently and then started stroking him. 

He shuddered, his whole body trembling, and hard fingers fastened on her wrist, stilling her movements. "God, Sam...wait," he groaned.

"No," she panted, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. She pulled her hand free and reached for him again. "Now, I need you now!" He was hot and throbbing in her hand she urged him closer. She knew he wouldn't refuse her, not when she needed him as much as he obviously needed her. 

He adjusted his position and she moved with him, letting him brush her hand away. She groaned his name, her eyelids fluttering shut, when his fingers stroked through her slick folds, his fingers sliding easily into her. God, it felt so good, but she needed more and she whimpered, tugging at his hips. 

Jack moved again, pressing his hips more firmly against her and coaxing her legs up higher around him. "Sam," he murmured softly.

She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly into his dark brown eyes as he slowly took her. She was mesmerized and couldn't look away, the fierce hunger in his eyes changing to a look of profound satisfaction. Of course, he could just be mirroring what he saw in her eyes. It still amazed her that she could engender such a response from a man like Jack. But she was grateful. He pushed deeper and she gasped his name, tightening her legs around him, savoring the incredible feeling of him slowly filling her. 

His arms slid under her back and he cupped her shoulders, his chest rubbing nicely against her breasts. Sam wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly as he started to move. Slow, steady thrusts that had her gasping with each deep stroke. She closed her eyes, burying her face in his throat, pressing opening mouthed kisses to his skin. It was all happening so fast, in only a few short days he had learned her body so thoroughly that she was already well on the way to finding the ultimate pleasure. 

She grumbled a protest when she felt him pull away, only to moan his name softly when he slid a large hand between their joined bodies. "Yes, Jack," she whimpered, "right there." His clever fingers caressed her just the way she liked and she was soon gasping, the soft sounds mixing with the faint murmuring of the lake and the birds in the trees. The sun beat down on them as he worked his magic on her body, his insistent caresses sending the forerunners of ecstasy racing through her body until they ultimately transformed into a pleasure so intense that she cried out his name, rapture breaking through her into a million exquisite pieces.

Tremors were still racing through her when she once more felt Jack grip her shoulders and start thrusting heavily into her. She tightened her arms and legs around him, moving with him as he drove for release, his powerful movements pressing her into the hard earth, but she didn't care. The intensity of his need reassured and soothed her in a way she couldn't even being to understand, but would accept—just like his love. His movements became more erratic and then he thrust deep, his arms tightening almost painfully around her. He groaned her name, his voice low and deep in her ear, and she felt the hot wash of his seed deep inside her. 

He collapsed onto her, burying his face in her neck and nestling deep into her embrace. Sam held him securely, her fingers stroking caressingly through his hair while he still trembled sporadically against her. Raking her nails gently across his nape, she murmured, "That was...phenomenal." 

He groaned, pressing a kiss to her throat. "Journal worthy?" 

"Oh, I think it will merit a sentence or two." She gave a soft yelp when he gently bit her ear lobe and then sighed softly when he rolled off of her. Immediately curling up at his side, his arms wrapped around her and she laid her head on his chest, her fingers stroking idly along his ribs. They lay quietly, the sun was warm and Sam was so relaxed, she closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off to sleep. That was until he spoke.

"So, you really want to get married?"

Her breath caught and her eyes flew open, she had forgotten that she had written that. She pulled out of his arms and sat up, looking down at him. His expression was carefully neutral, and even with her heart in her throat, she somehow managed to answer him. "I told you that I want it all. And if that includes marriage...."

He nodded. "Fair enough." And then he added, "Mexico, huh?"

"Yeah." Her lips curved into a smile, the anxiety his first question had brought draining out of her. "I like the sound of the sun and that white sand beach."

"I like the sound of the black bikini." He reached out and she let him pull her back down into his arms.

She propped herself up on his chest. "Was that my fantasy or yours?" 

He grinned up at her and her breath caught at the look of pure love shining out of his beautiful eyes. "Can't remember. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

Sam shook her head and leaned down, kissing him thoroughly. "No, I guess not."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Epilogue

Two Years Later

"Angela, promise me you'll think about what we've talked about this afternoon and make that list."

The young woman, looking as pale as the sheets of her hospital bed, still wouldn't look at her. "Is that an order, ma'am?"

Major Sondra Stafford smiled tiredly. "No, it's not an order. It's a request from your doctor who wants to help you through this."

The girl didn't say anything, but she nodded her head, which gave Sondra faint encouragement. "Good." Reaching out, she touched the back of the girl's hand, the stark presence of the bandages at her wrist a vivid reminder as to why Airman Angela Russell was in the hospital. "I'll see you tomorrow." Another small nod from Angela was the only acknowledgement and Sondra quietly left the room of her reluctant patient.

Stopping at the nurse's station, she wrote a progress note on her visit. She was tired and starting to feel depressed herself—the attempted suicides were always the hardest for her. And young girls slitting their wrists over a love affair gone bad were the most depressing of all. Placing the chart back into the rack, Sondra left the nurse's station and headed toward the elevators.

The down elevator arrived in record time, and on an impulse, she pushed the button for the second floor. She could use some cheering up and she knew the perfect place. When the elevator arrived on the second floor, Sondra let herself into the maternity unit. Technically she shouldn't have used her privileges as an attending physician at the hospital to visit the nursery during non-visiting hours, but right now she didn't care. The staff knew her and wouldn't object.

There was only one other person there, an older man standing at the far end of the nursery windows. Given the time of day, Sondra knew it could only be a family member, but she didn't pay any attention to him, instead focussing on the occupants of the nursery. Four out of six bassinets were occupied. Sondra moved closer to the glass, the sight of the healthy, surprisingly peaceful, babies already working its magic on her ragged mood. Three girls and one boy, she noted, the pastel pink and blue blankets already defining their identities. 

"Doctor Stafford?"

A man's questioning voice pulled Sondra from her daydreams about the babies and she dragged her eyes away from the nursery, looking at the man that was suddenly by her side. It was the man she had noticed earlier, tall with silver hair and deep brown eyes in a strangely familiar face. It only took a moment for her to recognize him.

"Colonel O'Neill."

"Retired, actually," he smiled.

"Congratulations," she said, and meant it. He had obviously survived whatever it was the Air Force had done to him, and for that she was thankful. She looked at him critically, his eyes were clear and his expression calm—the man she remembered had never smiled. Suddenly curious, she scanned the bassinets, looking at the names this time. There it was--'Baby Girl O'Neill'.

"Yours?" she asked, looking back at him.

His smile widened and he turned, looking in to the nursery with her. "Yeah," he answered, and she could hear the pride and love in his voice.

"She's beautiful."

"Thanks."

She stood there a moment longer, looking at Baby Girl O'Neill. She was pink and chubby—definitely healthy—a soft fuzz of blond hair on her head, one tiny hand clutching the pink blanket covering her. It was a sight she'd never get tired of seeing. Sighing softly, Sondra turned to leave. "Well, congratulations again, Colonel."

"Doc?" The hand suddenly placed on her arm stopped her.

"Yes?" She looked at him quizzically.

He dropped his hand and an oddly self-conscious look filled his face. "I always told myself if I ever saw you again, I'd thank you." He smiled and shrugged. "Of course, I never thought I'd see you again."

Sondra smiled. "That's okay. I'm glad you didn't have to see me again."

"Right. Well, I just wanted to let you know, what you did? It helped." He paused for a moment, looking back into the nursery for the briefest moment, before meeting her eyes again. "You might say it changed my life."

Sondra was surprised by his admission, but quickly recovered. "You're welcome, Colonel. I'm glad it helped, that means a lot to me."

He nodded, his expression sober, and she caught a brief glimpse of the man she had known back then, before he turned his attention back to the tiny occupant of the bassinet. Sondra took one last look at father and daughter as well, before she left, her heart lighter than when she'd arrived. Sometimes, she mused, you got encouragement from the most unlikely sources exactly when you least expected it—and needed it most. 

THE END


End file.
